Finger Dance
by maleV
Summary: Under the guise of cooperation, a foreign captain joins the North American S.O.U., forced on the disrespectful albeit most effective unit, Alpha team. Working to gain trust among the unit, is the captain in for more than he expected? Implied Nivanfield, Eventually.
1. Chapter 1

**Present Fic for Fangirl! Hope you like Chapter 1! Hope you all enjoy it.  
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"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"It's not an insult Captain, he's here to evaluate. The Russians have a branch of S.O.U. they're damn good. But you know as well as I do that they don't have the men we do. Those boys over there need some help-

"You're damn right they do. They might be the best over there, but their resources ain't shit compared to us. But I just don't know you want me to do about it? Alpha team is set, we don't need any more soldiers."

"As I said before... Captain, he's here to evaluate. Do some research on how we do things over here. Your unit has the best record of success and highest rate of return agents. Just... carry the weight for a little while, I'm sure things will be fine. Give the man an old fashioned American welcome if you need to. We'll appreciate it."

"So you want me to babysit some commie who probably can't wipe his own ass as some kind of a reward for good behavior...? Yeah alright... whatever. Just make sure the son of a bitch keeps his hands off my missions and out of my hair because my unit and I don't need this shit right now."

Not a problem Captain, not a problem. He'll be gone in two months, not a second longer."

"THE HELL?! TWO MONTHS! THAT'S BULLSHIT!"

* * *

If Chris Redfield wanted a tag along boyscout on his missions he would have quit a long time ago. Stupid accountability for assholes like this one were the reasons good men got killed. His team worked hard enough bringing their own boys home, but having some Russian prick dancing his way into his top rated team, under the pretense of 'research' to 'advance' the their own company was just going to mess things up. It was just pissing him off further. Lying bastards didn't need two months for that. He didn't want anyone on his team, fucking with his shit, or getting in the way. Particularly not some Russian with a complex because he was a designated captain in the ranks. Particularly not one that got in the way all the damn time. Always asking too many questions, always so nosy. If Chris had known they weren't just giving him an agent; but they were giving him another Captain, he would have sent the bastard home himself, and paid for the plane ticket. He didn't need a second weapons specialist working in his unit to get in the way of the first one, or telling his men what to do because he thought he knew best.

Sucking in the smoke of his menthol lights, Chris ignored the swirls of smoke rise from his nose, like a raging bull. Like what he was; a volcano about to erupt. Taking one more huge puff, Chris threw the tiny butt to the ground, cursing the cherry bead with the heel of his boot, smashing it down to nothing a few more times and watching its life flicker out, dashed on the linolium beneath his feet. Who cared about no smoking when they were forcing not only one problem on him but two. First problem was to find out why this asshole was really here. Second was to get rid of him. One more cigarette, he needed one more. Rolling his eyes, Chris lit up another weapon to calm his nerves. Drawing out the crushed and crinkled packet, pulling free the white stick that rested contrasted against his rough stubble and tight drawn lips, pulling back from his teeth after a sampling; bearing them when he sucked in the fumes that immediately filtered into his mutilated lungs. Appeased by its smoky goodness; the man hurtled forward, palm thudding powerfully against the steel doors that parted like a woman's legs; coming full stride out and passed the man who had dared to wedge himself inside the confines of his tight knit little group. Chris knew the worst when he passed him the first time when the directors had called him in, but not it was further irritation to know he'd probably still be standing there like a dutiful fucking lapdog. Alpha team was a family of noxious attitudes and belligerent men who did not get along with assholes like the one now trailing him wordlessly. People didn't just walk off the street and expect to get along with these types. They were the only kinds of men that made a team effective. They were hard asses. Hard asses who were as patriotic as they were violent. None of them were going to approve of a Russian captain joining the regs out of the blue. Especially if he was a gutless son-of-a-bitch who refused to open his mouth and interrupt the stride taking them ponderously toward freedom. If he didn't say something before they reached the his unit he certainly wasn't going to spare this guy his explosives boys, not that he would save him from them anyway. They were going to tear this man a new one just before Chris chased him home to his fat little czar and poor hovels.

"Capt'in Redfield."

Ah there it was. Pity he didn't just keep following like a goddamn puppy. It would have been funny watching him have to explain himself in front of Alpha without any help. Of course, he'd still have to aid him and induct him no matter the case, but now there would be less merriment poked at commie's expense. "Captain _Geevo_... I was wondering when you were going to make your presence completely unbarible..." Chris snorted, slipping his cigarette between two fingers and admiring it and the silence before finally huffing, those monumental shoulders heaving once before tossing the stick to the ground in disregard, taking slow dedicated steps to turn and face the man daring to infiltrate his peace of mind.

"It is Captain Gvorik."

"You just need to turn your commie ass around and go back home; you are wasting your time here." Mahogany eyes rose, and still four inches shorter than this ogre, Chris still managed to look down on the man in front of him. He'd be startled by the ice blue if he wasn't so completely unimpressed by the man owning them. Particularly with the moxie this guy had to dare meet his stare, eyes narrowing where the Russian's were naturally so regarding one another. Bemusement threatened in the eyes of his imposter Captain; Chris pouting out his lips as he pretended to take in all the over dressed, ironed and shined uniform the other Captain wore, along with his posture. This guy was an exact opposite of him, in aesthetics anyway. Blue orbs to brown. Blond slicked back to brunette ruffed up. Straight backed and perfect posture to the snorted hulk of Chris' person years of combat giving him the self assurance not to resort to posture for attention. The only thing they shared was the fact that they were both in their thirties, and that they were both rough muscled men with an impressive build that could make an average man put his tail between his legs. A good thing Chris wasn't any old bitch ready to roll over and submit. "What can I do for you Captain? Point you to the nearest airport? Because let me tell you now, I'm not playing host to the foreign exchange program because you and Headquarters seem to think I need to lead the tour bus on how it's done. Read a 'for dumb asses book,' let that be your enlightenment get the fuck out of here." Just the existence of this guy and his tight drawn lips and well pressed uniform was making Chris miss his bottle. But then, with this man being a soviet, it would ruin the taste of a perfectly good vodka. Whiskey tonight, definitely whiskey.

Thin lips drew back to reveal teeth, somewhere between a sneer and a sardonic smile, snorting out through his narrow nose at Chris' introduction as a complete ass not falling short of what he had been warned to expect. Nor that of the description of his person. For a captain, Chris was very slack. He was in regulars, but they were all askew and rumpled. Chris stank of cigarettes, booze, and disobedience, about as intimidating on the whole as being confronted by a washed up pencil pusher who seemed to have a god complex. "Capt'in Redfield, I was assured dat despite your obvious reluctance to take on dis assignment, that you would be completely compliant in de matter." Two men carved of stone glowered at one another, holding firm even through the allegation that Headquarters had assured a Russian that Chris was a whore and was just going to roll over and take it. From the look of captain Redfield, he was a Molotov cocktail of insubordination and anger management issues. Far from awe inspiring as the blond had been led to believe he was. "I would very much appreciate, an introduction to your team as soon as-

"Save it _Captain_." Chris threw a hand up, naturally narrow eyes drawing open wider at the sudden snarl cutting him off, Chris spitting on the ground between them as arms huge with bulging biceps drew across his chest, tightening. "I know what you want, and I know what Headquarters is making me do, but none of that involves me having to listen to your fake polite bullshit. I'll introduce you to Alpha team... sure. But make sure you get it through your head commie... I am not your pal, we are not friends or comrades and I sure as hell don't need your commie ass around my squad. I am the Captain, the _only_ Captain of that unit and you will respect that and them. If you so much as think of giving my men, or me an order, I won't hesitate to put a round through your face and empty your Asiatic brain out through the back of your skull. Write a letter for your wife and kids and stick it in your pocket for when that day comes because trust me when I say I'm looking for a reason to put you down. Understand... _Captain_? You are not one of us, you aren't even close to it... so just do what I say, and stay out of my way. Follow that and this can be a semi-bearable torture for me." There was silence between them yawning on and on before Chris nodded for both of them; spitting one more time to make the point of what a foul taste this left in his mouth, turning away and walking, not hearing the echo pair that had been following. Good, maybe the stupid bastard will do what's best for him, go back to the Kremlin-

"I understand what you want capt'in, but let me assure you of something." A white, pale hand raised up, slicking through corn stalk gold hair, slow pace drawing a drag in the gravel under their feet until the crunch stopped just behind Chris' broad form. "I am not under your command capt'in. You do not like this, almost as much as I don't like you. A drunkard is not my ideal companion, let alone one who's been given a position of power. However. We are both going to tolerate one another because my country requires it, and I am not above what my country needs, are you? Hate me or not Captain Redfield, you will learn to work with me." Gvorik snarled, greeted by the sickly sweet scent of the first cigarette of a new pack intentionally lit up to accent the drunkard line not being Chris' only vice, getting a chortle from further plaguing this new Russian tightwad. Knowing any other man, they never would have made an effort to blow smoke directly at their new addition. It would never have graced his nose here in the states, except this was Chris, and pointing out his 'flaws' only made it more amusing to point out the others, huffing out a huge breath of smoke up at the poised pale flesh for the accusation that he was a 'drunk.' Glutton for punishment... that's who this was, even if he had pegged the truth of that statement without fully comprehending it.

"Alright Captain... alright. You want to meet your new assignment so bad? You got it commie."

An approving scoff, and they were on there way, Chris letting insults slide off his shoulders than full out decking this man, and the other ignoring the putrid scent huffed into his offended nostrils. Letting the Russian draft him like a car that was driven on auto pilot toward the training grounds where all the units could sharpen their skills or in Alpha unit's case, let loose; Chris headed the way. It was a long walk of silence, a long walk that led and would end with certain doom for this man, and Chris had no intentions of reining in his men. If this guy wanted to play super soldier with the best of the best, he was going to have take every second of the ass kicking they'd give him just for presenting himself to them like some kind of award, even though to these men, it was like telling them all their new team mate was lice. There were consequences for calling Chris Redfield out. It took a longer walk and a truck drive across base just to get to the training grounds properly, neither still conversing with each other even as they both got into the base's utility truck. Throwing it in gear with the never removed keys in place, Chris began the way, pulling up the gravel and giving a kick when the terrain changed from stones and grit, to lumpy uneven earth and grass, bucking them around inside the cabin like an amusing comedic act of god. Watching two stoic statues of men jostled about in the front cab of a Dodge Ram, if there wasn't the wasn't the fear of getting shot, one might laugh; plowing through the grooves that lolled them around like baggage in the underbelly of a plane. Chris considered a tour of the place, but then he also considered punching this guy in the face. He wasn't stupid, he knew why Captain Gvorik was here, particularly after that jab at his lingering addiction to the bottle. It certainly wasn't just because the Russians wanted to play nice. Tumbling along the worn down, trampled grass, Chris made sure not to kick up the land, paralleling the shooting range where there was a team of men standing some argument of over the top voices hitting his ears, one of which he knew from a mile away. It drew the first smile of the day on Chris' face pulling up alongside the hanger a good distance off, nodding at the picnic table that left a track of mud and dirt showing its path from outside along with four pairs of boot marks and the wearers, guilty as charged, perched atop the thing having an incomprehensible conversation. Throwing the gears into park, Chris manhandled the shifter, giving it a smack as he swiped jingling car keys and throwing them over the dash, ignoring the other captain's apprehensive countenance while Chris threw open the door.

"Well Captain?" Chris sneered, hatred in his eyes as he panned out his expansive flexed arm and splaying his hand toward the hanger. "Come meet your new assignment." The other captain raised his head, looking at the group of men, intimidation lacking and yet the anticipation rising icy blue watching as Chris left him behind, a roar of all the voices at the table giving a huzzah! as Chris rejoined his team, clasping hands with each in turn. They were a litany of singularly talented men and it was the basest of intimidation to force him to join them like a red carpet had been laid out, Chris nodding toward the truck as the door opened, the mass of a Russian emerging, standing tall. "Gentlemen... may I introduce you to Captain Luka Gvorik, Russian S.O.U. Intel and our new... guest, of Alpha unit." The table of men clasping hands and comically yammering to one another went quiet, all of them turning attention to the captain standing straight backed, giving them each a once over in turn apparently waiting for an introduction, greeted with nothing but twisted expressions and disgust. "Well boys... make the new captain feel... welcome."

Alpha unit was made of young men. Old warhorses like Chris and this captain stuck out like a sore thumb comparatively. Among them there was only one that immediately stood and snapped his hand up at attention, only managing to get an entirely different reaction with a hand out to shake his. He was young, just like the rest of the team, all of them appeared just a tad shy of thirty years old, except this young man. He was stumbling for some kind of intro only further managing to pry looks of disgust from the team. "Sit down Macauley, what are you a fuckin' lap dog?." Gruff and snarly, square jawed, the larger of the bunch stood, propping one hand on his gun and the other smacking Finn backward on his ass, landing with a thud onto the picnic table with a clank, there was an over all resounded murmur everyone staring at the Russian captain like a museum artifact no one wanted. As the novelty of Chris intro crumbled away, they already began the slander. Background murmurs of 'damn communist bastards,' already hoisting in into the air. Eventually the man who'd shoved his only taker on the hand shake, broke the silence, Chris' half cocked smirk in evidence. If this man couldn't hold up to the scrutiny then he shouldn't be here, because it was only going to get worse from here. Still it showed in stark contrast, this pale faced, solid man was not concerned or even taken aback by the continued reluctance Chris took to properly induct him. "Agent Ben Airhart. S.O.U. Alpha team," A gloved hand smacked out, taking the Russian's, Luka without a smile, running the other hand through his hair and giving a shake and looking at the next man to take a stand. Another hard ass with a smirk, giving the captain a once over and not offering a hand, but rather flopping back down on the top of the table with his knees spread, a mock gesture of something the captain had very often seen in his own country signaled unnecessarily to the soldier's crotch. Andy gave a flick of a salute made only with his middle finger, a round of laughter tumbling from Chris' own lips.

"A pleasure. And you are?" Bright blue gracefully swept the short distance back to the youngest of them who had stumbled through his own first attempt at an introduction. Peeling his fingers from Ben's, he gave the man regard, before stepping the extra distance and crossing the threshold within the hanger, taking the extended hand immediately even though it trembled slightly. Chris could see it even there. He's evaluating even the rookie... "Your name, soldier?"

"His name is agent kiss ass. He specializes in rimming, why don't you bend over and let him show ya."

Finn immediately stuttered, drawing the first real smile from the Russian commander, patting him once on the shoulder. "Very nice to meet you Finn." Eyes traversing the group he noticed the habitual roll of eyes on Finn's account, and the way each man seemed to quell apart from Chris as he locked eyes with each. Noting the overall disinterest in his presence from Andy, who turned his attention back to Chris and immediately started railing about what the hell a communist Hitler was doing on their side of the wall. So many loose racist comment in one ill conceived rant being throw around in a single sentence, while Luka silenced a snarl of his own, taking a singular outstretched had from the man lying down on the top of the table, pulling himself upright when the hand was taken instead of using it for the intended purpose of a hand shake, using strength that barely lurched from the blond as leverage, a lazily salute following that resembled a mock Russian one. "And you are?"

"What the HELL is wrong with you Walker! Stand your asses up before I stand them up for you!" Tenor malevolence shook through the hanger bouncing off the metal curvature mingled with boot falls of hard rubber on the concrete; coming right behind the Russian captain. Chris openly chuckled with a shake of his head, watching every one of the men at the table stand, reluctantly, but stand. "Your captain gave an order Alpha team, I should expect every one of you to do as your told, unless of course you want to set the example for S.O.U. standards being old men who couldn't fight their way out of a plastic bag. And trust me Walker if you don't stand up before I finish talking I will make certain its a pine box you are fighting your way out of." Chris' expression mirrored that of the new captain, amusement behind hardened eyes, wondering when the blond Intel officer would get the gull to either turn around and give Chris the satisfaction of showing his back to see the man who came right up behind him, or continue the discomfort of baring it to an unknown assailant. It didn't last long, a rifle butt greeting the ground in front of 6'6" and imposing, with a smaller lithe man who's eyes never came up to properly meet his as he came around the front side in two strides. Hazel flickered up the uniform and back to his crew; but gave a brief, albeit completely annoyed, nod of the head, keeping his attention trained on the unit. Luka was regarding him and tilting his head, looking over the form in front of him, sniper scarf wrapped in place and over the lower half of a profile that had the soviet smirking. "The next person who gives lip to an S.O.U. captain, from this country or not, is going to spend the rest of their pathetic life trying to get my boot out of their ass. Understand!"

"Captain Commie...," Chris smirked, splayed fingers displaying his unit standing grudgingly on display for the Russian, who was still by that matter running his hand through his hair every thirty seconds and giving a quizzical look toward the young man at his left, rifle barrel tucked at his shoulder and meeting only Chris' eyes, never turning to fully introduce himself, despite that overall impressive display to put men on their feet in regard for their new comrade. "This is my partner. A.T.L. Piers Nivans." Piers turned, still not raising his eyes to those starling blue ones, throwing up a salute and ignoring the handshake, plucking up the rifle and taking a few more steps regarding Chris with a nod that was mirrored by his captain, one foot propped on the bench part of the table, forearm rested across it horizontally to support his hunched over form.

"These fine, slack jawed idiots are agents: Andy Walker, Carl Alfonso, Ben Airhart, and rookie agent Finn Macauley, explosives expert." Piers' eagle sharp oculars narrowed, his full lips pursing as he bore holes in the back of Andy's head for his disrespect before tipping his head up, finally meeting eyes with the Russian before them. In full uniform of a national S.O.U. agent it was a bit out of place, as ill fitted as Chris' regulars were on his huge broad chest. He wasn't as mountainous as Chris, but it was his height that made his wide structure all the more impressive. "Alpha team, this captain, who has every right to reprimand every one of you, is Russian S.O.U. Captain of Intel, and weapons specialist." Icy blue met those seemingly unimpressed hazel, not holding them long as they fleeted back over his person. Piers wasn't openly disregarding, but his eyes expressed everything. The words were by the book, but he evidently wasn't keen on him either, even though the man wasn't afraid to obviously enjoying the respectful tone while giving him the returned once over. By an easy once over the man was perfection, but then so was his record. Of course H.Q. had informed Chris' second-in-command. Piers had a reputation for getting the job done and he was in charge of Alpha unit when it's captain was busy being anywhere but here. "Captain Luka Gvorik spent ten years working in the Russian military before helping to construct the Russian Special Operation Unit, along with being proficient five languages, highest ranked in their program, and being solely responsible for bringing down the terrorist threat of Las Plagas running through underground circuitry in St. Petersburg. Meaning Andy, he's the reason you got to get drunk all last month instead of H.Q. hauling our asses out there to fix it. Show some respect." It seemed the entire unit was standing a little smaller as Piers was chastising them, and Luka stood taller, not breaking eye contact with Piers until Chris finally spoke again.

"Welcome to Alpha Team, Captain Gvorik."

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**Thanks again for reading my work all you wonderful fans. Leave a comment or complaint, either way I need the feedback! Helps me learn. Hope you guys will continue to enjoy my work! We'll go more into this suspicious new comer in the next chapter!  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Learning the ropes, poor Russian.**

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Music berated the senses, the entire room nothing but the laughter of soldiers, celebrating. "They are not shy about their celebrations I see." Luka tipped his head examining the display before him, bemusement dancing behind his eyes as another vodka was placed in front of him, and another vodka was ignored. The newly acquired captain hadn't drank in thirteen years. the smell was still enough to cause a slim lipped mouth to water, but not enough to persuade staunch resolve into capitulating. It was an event some years back in a time no one spoke of, in a place no one wanted to be. A woman he'd lost to a few extra drinks and a few bucks. She walked out. Things better left not reminisced about in this sort of slum. Still, the ever torpid Chris Redfield continued his religious routine of stacking up the pile in front of him because he didn't 'drink alone.' So, before the blond communist soldier, sat a tall mound of shot glasses all being piled into a pyramid replica of the 'Halls of Montezuma,' and before the captain were a growing pile of similar glittering glasses, all emptied into his gullet, the burn long gone. "They _should_ be proud, they are very good." Luka's eyes were resting on the team of reckless agents, all of which appeared to be under the table by now in terms of inhibitions apart from their singularly sober comrade, acting just as intoxicated without the liquor. A few hours ago one would have though they were machines, emotionless killers, trained perfectly, incapable of failure. They were an interesting group, as complicated together as their commander was alone. A man who had demanded despite not liking him; they get drunk together, in not so many words. It made not have been obvious to some but he made it evident after his first three rounds in just as many minutes, demanding Luka's presence in silently observing like the gargoyle he was, hunched over their steep tower of drinks.

"Yeah Alpha team party hardy." Sarcasm laced all of Chris' baritone words, looming over his unsteady stack of sticky diamond glasses, overturned on the table top, ignoring his troop's behavior. The captain was already ordering another, putting it on the top turret of the mountain, and throwing back his own with a splash, banging it down on the table top with a ponderous clank. "So commie... what did you think of the great alpha team now? Ready to take your albino ass home?"

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_The sun was bringing her face to the height of all that was holy, casting her arrows down upon the world, even in this tepid Hell hole. They were all hell holes, but there was a special circle for these creatures that Umbrella had uncovered for them. The gravel beneath the feet was more rubble than gravel, and the sky was cloudless, leaving sweat to accumulate on the brow, flesh pale by comparison to the natural tan of the other alpha members, all of which were use to the sweltering heat, where Luka,'s broad body had been only ever connected with the cold. The adventure was exhilerating, a tight lipped smile working over features molded by years of war yet sophisticated, enjoying the tones of his team mates cooing in his ear. _

_'Hot as a bitch out here boys, can't fuckin' breath.'_

_'Not at hot as my bitch back home.'_

_'Yeah right Alf, your bitch looks like a damn dog. Now Miranda, she's a hot bitch.'_

_'Walker, eye on the prize man.'_

_'All three of you need to quit griping. Besides Walker, your so called hot bitch left the bar last week with Alf.'_

_"WHAT!?'_

_"Heh.." There was a round of laughter as other things went on, Chris' occasion rumble of a laugh filling ear canals while Carl and Andy had it out over who was better in bed, followed by a soft tenor than never really joined in. Their conversation grew more sparse as they were faced with their objective, gun shots filling the air around them. Faced with Umbrella's Bioweapons was no joke, but these men were all exceptionally talented, their converation still prattled on in bits and pieces. _

_'You know that bar wench had a thing for you captain. Swear she was going to climb in your lap.'_

_'Are we living in the medieval ages Walker? She wasn't a wench.'_

_'Awww did I offend your social sensibilities Agent Nivans?'_

_Luka smiled casually, taking the first few shots without the reverberations ever registering in his arms that he was firing a weapon. He was a weapons expert, they were so numbing in his mind that every shot was just another part of well sculpted arms, bare to the sun. His weapon rose again, the standard issue of U.S. S.O.U.'s for the tactical reasoning for getting use to the feel of how their crew ran. He had his gun pointed but as his finger cradled the trigger and prepared to fire the sound of resonating rifle fire distracted him, booming through the air. It wasn't more than a few seconds that the zombie that was in front of him was taken down by the golden sniper. The bullet was so close that he could hear the whistling come close to him. Not to mention that he could feel the heat of the energy as the bullet pass his cheek. Another step to to the left at the wrong time, he would have been dead, but then the second bullet sounded behind his back, taking the creature behind him, teeth bared for feasting. He looked up to where Chris had directed the young sniper to go. He was astonished with the young man, the first mission with the Alpha Team and he was surprised with Piers' ability. Meeting eyes with the sniper scope that had already moved on and was tailing the other members of the crew. "Appreciate it Nivans."_

_'Don't appreciate it too much Lucky, I've got four other men to cover. Eyes forward pal.'_

* * *

Carl falling over a table brought attention back from the memory, a raucous of laughter filling from a thousand voices over the music blaring to fill all corners of the room but their own. The water logged captain never turned his head, but Luka couldn't help but leave the attentions of the older man to his booze and entertain himself with the newest game that a drunken Alpha team had decided to begin. At first it was 'I've Never', a game where each person names something they have never done, and those who have done so before take a drink. Which led to ten rounds of Andy having to slug back just as many bourbons, so they switched to watching the game on T.V., where Walker again took the wrong bet and had to take a drink every time the opposing team (the Avalanche), scored a goal, rallying him six more. Finn and Carl were right behind him, and soon they were hunting for more games while their team mate dribbled over some waitress with an ass that filled out her skirt to the point of hanging out her poor choice in a white thong making the situation even more unbearable. He would have begun to question their intelligence soon considering how many drinks they'd already had, but that was until their sober Assistant Team Leader peeled his skin tight white shirt off his upper body, revealing tan skin and taut abdominal muscles, immediately stunned to silence. Piers was exactly as his team described him. He was the sun, stare too long, or fly too close and you were instantly burned. He was sharp as a tack, and backed every man in the field, as well as led them with all relayed orders and signaling. It was a complete contrast to this good humored man; frictionless body on display while tossing the white shift on the chair beside his S.O.U. jacket. Walker gave a nudge, more of an elbow in Carl's ribs; one that Luka couldn't help but notice, until Piers was laid back completely, laughing all the while Carl led a trail of salt up the contours of his muscles to his chest, a small ruby small squishy gummy was placed between pouted lips; preparing for a game he'd only ever seen his own men play with prostitutes and hookers. "Your partner... he is... _not_ drunk?"

Chris didn't bother to look up completely, just begrudgingly cant his head, face leaned on one rough palm, meeting eyes with the tawny haired sniper who held the half lidded gaze, a smile curling those full lips as they stayed there with the buzz of the room all muted for those brief few seconds before Chris broke the stare; stifling a laugh as Carl poured tequila into his belly button. "Nivans? No... he doesn't drink, he's got no tolerance for it, put a single glass of whiskey in him and he'll start table dancing. Hates the taste." He scoffed watching Andy shove Carl out of the way as he took the first body shot, his tongue darting into Piers' naval and along the salt trail, intentionally slow, letting the saltiness mingle with the sweat on their sniper's body from their earlier mission; leaving a trail of saliva before stealing the gummi bear from his lips, exacting deep brown examining the scene of miscreants reapplying liquor and salt, Piers eating the first candy pressed to his lips and then replacing that with a green one. "He does that. Kid has a wild streak, what can I say." Chris was ignoring the rather lewd whistle that Andy made from pursed lips as Carl's mouth hovered over Piers' pillowy lips relinquishing the gummi bear before the uproar started for Finn to take a shot, the boy's face a motley of red; blush and nose bleed earning all the more laughter. Chris never truly looked away, keeping his eyes on the scene and making sure to lock eyes with his partner between every single body shot, running his tongue over his teeth as Piers ran his own tongue over the bear in his mouth and turned. "He parties with his team when they do a good job, makes sure no one leaves with anyone they shouldn't. You know... plays mommy."

"If I recall properly you say he has a woman waiting for him..."

Eyes narrowed shifting from his partner to watching Luka examining the scene as Piers laughed; sitting up and giving Finn a pat on the shoulder, shouting something over the music no one could understand because of how loud it played over their heads. He was consoling the younger man for being intimidated and giving him the small reassurances. The blond had been watching Piers all week, with that same exacting look; the sharp one that suggested he wanted more than just to observe him. Those icy azure eyes that seemed to take in all and absolutely nothing of his partner. He had been trying to read Piers since the day they met, which Chris had enjoyed because reading his partner was trying to read the entire dictionary all in one sitting and getting stuck on 'Addicting.'. He was both commander and soldier, and it was evidently confusing the Russian who had allowed himself a brief respite from acting the dutiful captain to let those marine eyes pool on the taut exposed muscles of his stomach. It made Chris snicker, maybe he should have been insulted the man was so openly eying his partner, but his partner was so openly advertising. For a while he was concerned that captain comrade Geevo was judging his partner's actions because he was appalled by them, even that would have been more worrisome, but instead they had come to what every member of Alpha team had eventually gone through. Everyone went through the shell shock over those pretty lips and the sculpted lean frame, and every one of them failed. There were reasons Chris let Piers get wild with Alpha team, and that was because of one very important thing, one thing that made the captain pleased just thinking about it and seeing those hazel eyes meet his own between every lick over his lips and the straying hands of their squad. Shaking his head the brunette earned himself a grin, ordering another round of clear death. That was his. "You've got more of a chance turning water into wine than getting in bed with him commie. She's got him wrapped around her pinky finger."

* * *

_The ongoing mutters from the other men were almost hilarious. Everyone talked about the Russian like he was on some kind of soap opera joining their little marriage of skill to be something helpless even though just seconds before he took three walkers headed directly for Agent Walker, a failed attempt at a salute his only thanks. It annoyed him they were so sure of themselves hat he wasn't phased at all by the saving grace of Luka's assault rifle, but rather more amused. Ice blue eyes traveling to spot his remaining team mates while Carl began another conversation that made Finn horribly uncomfortable. The poor lad was the butt of every joke, whimpering something whiny at the captain who only grunted a response in the sounded like a gruff 'man up MacCulley.' _

_'Oh come on Finn, you're telling me you aren't buggering that chick, she was all over you!'_

_'Caaaappptainn.'_

_'Walker, stop making Finn shit himself, in this heat its going to reak.'_

_"Dis place smells of shit anyway."_

_'Hahaha, true that Rusky! Besides why talk about Finn's not girlfriend when we can talk about how General Valentine tried palming your ass last week cap?'_

_'Misunderstanding Walker, she wasn't palming my ass, she wanted to hold my gun.'_

_'Heh! Yeah! Speaking of guns, Nivans how's your girlfriend?'_

_'Slim and keening for it Walker. Keep heading east and I'll let her wear black at your funeral. There's thirteen your way.'_

_Blond sculpted brows knit together, drawing up again despite the sun to eye the sniper in his place, standing over them with his rifle pressed to his shoulder, popping off rounds toward the east. He never came off as the type. Without ever having spoken of a significant other, Piers still looked the part of a submissive, even if he wasn't at all relenting to these men or anyone else for that matter. He would have teased the subject, but he thought it better to keep his mouth shut in this case. He didn't want them to start their banter in his direction, there was no need to explain himself to these men. He mainly stayed to himself the last few days, observing those interactions between the team. Chris drank, Piers instructed, and the team developed together, but it was plainly clear who was the imposing force of the team. Piers was more than an A.T.L. for these men. It wasn't until they had started out on their mission that he started really listening in on their conversations, noting that even if it was Piers shouting out instructions, they were instructions that followed Chris' unspoken ones. They were truly a slick team, well oiled, and that made it harder to pinpoint just what it was he was looking for, but he already knew._

___Another few B.O.W.s went down with the sound of gun fire from his own weapon. Luka could hear others firing all around the area he was in bullet reverb echoing off the walls of adobe and clay, windows blowing out when the occassional strayed bullet didn't find it's mark. The man held his gun out at the ready as he ventured down the seemingly deserted alley until he found a the source of the moaning noise he'd been tracking for a good five minutes. Feet silent, picked up and placed careful, one over the other while nearing the gored sight of Satan. A herd of mutilated zombies were gorging on a fresh corpse, judging from the pack it sustained, a full grown male its intestines littering the alley. As he moved in on them. He was out of Piers' sight. One by one, the head of the creatures rose from their kill; clamoring upright from their hunched over smorgasbord, then got up to come at him. One by one they went down with each shot he fired._

* * *

"Andy?" Finn hiccuped into his strawberry daiquiri, burping up into his fist, while Luka gave him a small distanced pat on the back. "Well... Andy has been part of Alpha for a realllllllllllllllllly looonnnnng time. Like... one year? or is it fiiivvvve... no I think it's definitely three or four years." Finn nodded happily before it made him dizzy and he burped again, chewing unhappily on whatever came back up into his mouth, feeling fleeting fingers removed from his spine as Luka's fine features twisted in disgust. "Sorrrrrrryyyy! 's jus' the buffflo wings, I promise!" Finn was shouting despite being so close, pointing at the plate of wings that Carl was still feasting on, that the blond couldn't help but step away from.

"I apologize Finn... but I wasn't asking about Mr. Walker. I was asking about-

"My girlfriend?" Nimble, dexterous dark gloved fingers slid onto Luka's shoulder blade, sending a shiver up his spine when he heard the forcible tenor behind his right shoulder. "Why so curious about her all of a sudden Lucky?" Even with his considerable height different, Piers managed to never look small. He was lithe, lean, and had an incredibly feminine way of holding his body; hip popped to the side with one hand cupping his hip as always. Yet despite all that he never seemed small, or girly. He was a force to be reckoned with and even with his massive size, broad chest and imposing structure, Luka managed to get goosebumps every time that exacting tenor voice was directed at him. It was no wonder at all his men were always cowering in front of him. Unless you earned it, Piers Nivans was a pitbull.

* * *

_Luka came back out of the alley, fingers flying up to the com, "Clear from Park West."_

_There was a brief window of time to look around, watching as Finn set another explosive Carl his back up killing anything that moved while wires were set and charges rigged, the tiny form of a man simpering when he got a pat on the shoulder from his cover man. He wasn't meant for combat, but Finn was certainly a wiz when it came down to explosive devices. He was suppose to rig the entire town to blow, which should have been a huge issue, at least back in the Czech Republic it would have been, but Alpha team made it seem easy, Walker clearing out the next building to be rigged. His job was clearance, he was suppose to clean out the buildings. The idea was, you get rid of all the Bioweapons, you clear the houses check each one to make certain there are no survivors, and then blow the place to seal any evidence. It was an arduous process, but necessary and what they lived for. Looking around he began the second sweep, shooting lead into everything that lumbered like a B.O.W. _

_'Check the buildings,' came Chris's voice. 'They want the whole place cleaned up. And I don't want anyone left behind. You find a survivor call in on the eyes in the sky.'  
_

_'Covered captain.' _

_In the building next to him, he had seen things, motion stirred his peripherals, drawing him up each step to mount the threshold of the 'Bank of Nations.' Meaty muscled thigh tensed with each step, his uniform and three riggings on his right leg hugging almost too tight, just the way he liked them. Pushing through the teller's station, ice blue eyes scanned every whereabouts for bloodied foot prints or smears, the general tell tale signs of infected. There was never too careful. A corpse still fresh in its seat, slumped twitching in its place, sliding further down until it hit the floor, nudging the tip of his assault rifle to its head. One squeeze and brain matter and gore splattered meticulously clean boot tips, grunting. Something infected the banker... Pantyhose had runs in it, uncovered by a skirt that was shredded by massive claw marks and pleasing hips and revealed inner thighs ending with a missing leg. Whatever it was, was nearby. Luka raised his eyes from the mess, and carefully went in search of its companion. There weren't that many on the first floor and all were zombies or recently deceased. It was the second floor that had more. _

_Timberland boots with a heavy rubber sole thumped loudly as well on the glazed wooden floor above the wreck of the bank, checking over the mess of offices. Chris was walking around on this floor as well, he was signature soldier, guns always at the ready with his shot gun poised, never lowering for anyone. When they overlapped Chris never lowered his weapon, snorting as he gave Captain Gvorik a once over, he held his gun on him anyway, never lowering despite the other captain's 'courtesy' disarm, lowering his A.R.. "Take a knee... very slowly."_

_"Captain?" the Russian sputtered out, his gun immediately up._

* * *

"I was curious. I've never seen you with a woman agent Nivans."

Piers was pacing around the front of Luka in a sort of semi circle, like a wild cat watching its pray before settling again, resting his fingers on his hip and his shoulder tipped forward, the rifle compensation evident though he wasn't holding it. "Well you should look closer then Lucky." The nickname was almost a given, but Piers was the only one who used it, hazel eyes exacting as his cant his head from side to side, Luka's eyes roaming him like an artifact he'd discovered, undressing him with his eyes. Just the way the soldier maintained all composure even in a bar after having his shirt off for a crew full of drunk men. And he was flawless too, never once buckled under the scrutiny or appeared flustered. He really did have an on and off switch this one. "She doesn't share. Eyes forward Lucky."

"I apologize," eyes rose, locking on the ones that refused to give him space to breath, the two taking each other in. "I find it interesting you would say such a thing if you spend your free time undressing for your squad... Or that trick you did... with your mouth," he nodded at Alpha team, never straying their eyes from each other as they stared. He didn't know when Piers had replaced his clothing, but he could see it in his eyes that he hadn't been aware that Luka had been watching his team mates playing connect the dots between his naval to his mouth with their tongues. "Gummy bears... I've never seen a sober_ taken_ man do that."

"You should see what I do for her," no matter the statement, it rolled off his tongue easily, but sharp. There was plenty of trash thrown among the soldiers about their significant others, but Piers only ever brought it up when antagonized and it didn't go passed Luka that he never went into detail, just followed the swing of conversation when forced. But then Piers wasn't the kind of man to hand it out for free, that much was true. The Russian couldn't help his sudden interest in the other woman, in how if she existed why it was this one did his dance with the devil for his team, until he realized he was staring again. "You might want to find something else to stare at... _captain, _or at least stare a little more subtle. So long as you are in Alpha you are under captain Redfield's command, and I am A.T.L., that means so long as you are part of this unit you are under me. So do yourself a favor Lucky... get over it, rub one out in the bathroom if you need to, but keep your eyes off me unless you want me to show you how good of a shot I really am."

* * *

_"NOW!" Chris rose his gun and unloaded the remaining rounds into the creature's head that was perched above; walking along the ceiling with it's long claws, the tongue close to wrapping the other man's neck. Once the man heard the thud, eyes wide at the captain's outburst but following his orders; turned to see what it was. A licker... Crafty things that could walk the wall and they had had a run in with their ilk in Russia before. He was too distracted here by these people, by Chris. __His eyes widened and turned back to the man that shot it._ He didn't trust captain Redfield, and after that display he didn't trust him all the more, seeing the blood shot red that stained the whites of his eyes. Drunk on a mission while firing inches over his head? Redfield was aggravated to say the least, they were glowering at one another until Luka was about to come forward with the accusation, when Chris cut him off. "And you came from the Russian organization... No wonder your boys have a 100% death rate." Chris walked off grumbling about the man's ignorance and the Russian looked at the licker, putting a few more rounds in its skull before following after.

* * *

"I would actually..."

Piers stopped midstride from walking away, turning on his heel and curling in a finger, beckoning him closer with narrowed golden flecks in his eyes, Luka with a egotistical smirk still in place as he leaned down, able to smell the clean that emanated from Piers' body compared to the drunkenness around him and suddenly taken by being so close. He was never so close to Piers, because the man was a pit viper and had a tendency to strike at anytime. The simile was so close in fact, but the tension that boiled between them made it all the more exhilarating having those lips beside his ear, breathing over his cheek. He was bating Luka, letting him take in his smell, his form, the urge to touch him before parting his lips, tongue teasing out and licking over his upper tier before the words washed over the Russian like water. "I. Never. Miss."

* * *

**Who doesn't love a good tequila shot off that frictionless washboard stomach.**


	3. Chapter 3

Long experienced fingers splayed wide on the designated 'home of alpha team' the space between them not nearly wide enough to properly accommodate the buck knife that was dancing half moons in the table top, back and forth between digits with the diligence of a seasoned veteran, huge saucer sized eye balls locked on place fingers, where pale blue were locked on him, placing the finger dance without ever looking down from his victim of circumstance. Slicked back blond hair threatened to fall forward, but it was the one time perhaps that the Russian refused his compulsion to push it back and instead sped his pace, watching beads of salt and sweat forming on the temple and hair line of one Finn Macauley. For an explosives expert the boy had no resistance. Not a shred of discipline. Watching the way Nivans tore into him day after day it was a surprise to Luka that this young man never left, but then it wasn't so shocking. Apart from nearly having a brain aneurism when Alpha suggested Finn do a body shot off Piers' stomach it was fairly obvious how the rookie agent felt about their A.T.L. That of course, was why he came to Finn, last.

Captain Luka Gvorik was not a fool. There was no man alive that could boast that fact and be considered credible. He was an intelligence officer, which here meant that he was good at gathering intel, but in Russia it meant something different. It meant that fingers and toes were optional, that you have two eyes and that something called the Geneva Convention does not apply. A kind of world he grew up in, and when you were done with the mess left of the man you had 'interrogated' you left their bodies naked in the snow for the wolves to feast on. There was no person alive that claim ignorance to a man such as him. Not that these kinds of things were necessary. The little things, the subtle things were the things you looked for when picking a man, and then you worked him. Show him you intentions by making him the last man standing. The youthful explosives expert was in fact the only man standing. He could gauge and use the information he retrieved from the others but it was all the build up to the one tenement moment to get all his answers and then some. He wasn't certain why he was so compelled himself but it Finn was the tipping point. He had started with Walker.

* * *

_"You want to talk about what now Rusky?"_

_"About you. I was given the task of evaluation by my country, and I find that one can not truly-_

_"Yeah, yeah, what do you want to know?" Andy shifted in his place, lethargically placing pieces of his 9-0-9 on the cloth in front of him as each part was dismantled for cleaning, a woman draped in his lap cooing things in his ear that most Russian prostitutes would have trouble fulfilling. It didn't even phase the man she was perched on however. Long manicured nails slithered up Walker's chest, along the seams of his regular uniform and around his shoulders draping on him yet out of his way; whispering about how she wanted 'big daddy' to take a break from his gun to show him the 'target.' "Not yet woman, I've got company can't ya see that?" There was laughter, but all his own, Luka sneering at the distasteful way she was parading herself for him. It was becoming quite clear that no one was responsible in this crew, at least when they were scattered. How walker got a call girl on a military base was beyond him, particularly one so well defended as this, the S.O.U. training facilities were some of the best in the world, and here was a common gutter prostitute sitting in the man's lap, just like the one at the bar the night before. Each woman was the same, always trying to get sell what shouldn't have been anything but cherished. "Thong or commando baby?"_

_"I'm sitting on the commando?"_

_"How long have you been working for captain Redfield?"_

_"Oh about two years, give or take, but I've been working with B.S.A.A. for five. Can't say it hasn't done the trick, I've got everything I need here. Besides I'm the best at what I do ask anyone. Mmm, and I think I'm gonna do you next, would you like that baby?" The hooker squealed in his lap like a school girl, twiddling overly long sanguine finger nails through her pigtails when Andy bounced her in his lap, throwing down the last pieces of his weapon. "Give big daddy a kiss."_

_Ice blue eyes narrowed turning his face away, Andy's mockery of a kiss sloppy and wet sounding while they laughed together, Walker's hands squishing her large round cheeks under the skirt he was wearing, all the more noises whorishly emit as he snaked his tongue into her mouth, stained red lips sucking on his tongue like it was a piece of meat she'd done over a thousand times before. "How long has he been drinking on the job?" The question went unnoticed, more giggles filling he air while Andy worked his hands up the pleated skirt just a bit further, only the muscles in his forearms working and the occasional moan the dead give away what he was doing to the woman. "Apart from your... lady here, your team mates have all seemed quite professional on the matter. They have others?" Baritone words were lost as the girl started her completely unabashed moaning, squirming in Andy's lap as her legs slipped further and further apart, the flex of his wrist and pumping of his hand taking all his attention as she started throwing her head back, playing with those playing with brunette pig tails and bucking into his hand. "You are close with them." After the insistence to continue the conversation Andy pull his hand away, glistening and putting it in front of her face, watching the unashamed whiff of her own scent before disgusted and used finger tips were held out to Luka, Walker casting a side long glance at him with a witty little snort to follow._

_"Look man, Captain Redfield has been working this shit since before this pretty little cunt was born... I don't give a flying fuck if he drinks on the job or not. He's brought me home more times than I can count on both hands. I don't know what you're prying at Stalin, but lay off the captain." Luka smacked his hand aside, incurring a laugh that chimed from both whore and soldier, fingers slipping into his gruff mouth, smirking and wiping them off on her skirt. "Like honey baby, like honey... As far as my boys are concerned. Yeah we're a little clinging to the job. I mean I get all the pussy I want, Carl can have my left overs if he really wants them. Captain doesn't really have a life outside the cigarettes, him and Valentine use to have a thing..., and Finn gets off just being surrounded by us. Not that he'd ever hear me say it, but he's a righteous bomb maker. So yeah we've all got something that tides us over I guess. None of us are actually tied down if that's what you're asking. That is no one but Nivans; he belongs to his woman, hahaha."_

* * *

Working that system, that beautiful system. The first man, Andy walker, would report to the others that the commie captain had started asking questions about captain Redfield about the team, and that was the first seed. Plant doubt, fear, upset, curiosity. Get their stories straight so that when it came to this man..., boy, he would need to have every lie straight in his head, that had been fed to him while staring like a doe eyed barbie doll at the knife whirring by faster and faster between his fingers, just on the edge of his seat. Of course the men would defend their captain. Not only was he a man of some honor, but he was the man who killed Albert Wesker, and as Walker had stated, brought his men home in one piece time and time again. Captain Redfield had obviously fought long and hard for his men, it was noble. And now every one of them assumed that Luka was looking to evaluate Chris. Including this poor little boy, hoping and praying, waiting for Gvorik to say anything so he could give him well rehearsed answers and get it over with. Of course, yes he was evaluating the captain, no man was never not being evaluated, but this was about getting to know the men around him, and one particular man who'd issued the first challenge Captain Chris Redfield was Russia's target, but one mission and a few extra days in the unit, and he found his own target veered to a different man. A thundering pound of the knife and it rung in place between forefinger and thumb, wavering back forth; watery eyes fighting not to clench shut and weep while they rose to Luka's strong jaw and then higher to his straight nose, and exacting blue eyes, silence mortifying from the contrast of the multiple taps of the knife hitting the table like a slowly oncoming train until it hits you. Apparently he still thought there should have been a knife embedded in his hand. "Tell me something agent Macauley... do you like your job?

* * *

_"I've been working for captain Redfield for I don't know... I haven't kept count. I know Walker has been my partner for almost 18 months when they put me on Finn duty. Have me watching that baby's backside like I bore him fromm my man cunt. Freakin' annoying. At least Walker knows which direction is north is. You ask Macauley and he'll squeal like a pig and then lay an egg before crying for captain."_

_Brown eyes were glued to the system in front of him, dexterous thumbs flying over the directional keys and lettered buttons, eyes flicking over the tiny screen before him and tiny little 8 bit music lofting up from the box giving Carl Alfonso every reason to ignore his interrogator. They each found a way to ignore him. Walker with his whore, Carl with this game system. He'd meant to talk to Chris himself but he had been shut up inside his office with a cold bottle of U.S. made vodka and a thousand cigarette butts dealing with paperwork. Of course the one thing he'd been told Redfield never does would be the one thing he picks to do on the day that Luka starts asking questions. But that was the idea, each one avoiding talking to him. He could watch these little miscreants do their deeds without so much as a flinch and get his task under way, filling his pool of knowledge with each misstep there was made so long as they stayed in one place and were accessable. The only persons he couldn't talk to, was the captain, and agent Nivans; who was spending the morning teaching a crew of, according to him: the world's saddest bunch of boyscouts he'd ever seen. The way he said it, the way he had men standing on their toes, shaking under the force of having a machine action pistol pointed directly at their right eye, the same eye he shot out in every head shot, Luka almost believed the threat himself. He certainly did his job of intimidating those men, and had the anger needed all bottled up inside him. If the young sniper didn't seem so intent on working for Redfield, he would probably had a captain's job by now. Not only was he building a bond with the men, but they were learning to stop quaking like five year olds and to no hesitate. Instantly afterward he treated them to an asskicking Piers always made sure to provide and be the example of what he was asking them to do. His moves were perfection to a T, each step defined, explained, and trained through. He was the only one making sure he couldn't be interrupted with this line of questioning by doing something of importance._

_Still there they were. And aside from that this was about agent Macauley. The last man standing, who would break and give everything up, everything he wanted after hearing the different reports. "What do you think of your country agent?"_

_That wasn't in his list of requests from Walker... Carl snapped his head up, rolling spit around in his cheek before looking back down when his screen flashed blue: Game over. "What kind of question is that Captain Gvorik? I love my country. Its a fucking wonderful place to live. Where else can you go to practice every way of life and then go into other people's countries to fight theirs? Are you trying to tell me I don't come off as patriotic? I'm the fucking statue of liberty man! Without the skirt." About to press the NEW GAME action, Luka's hand snapped out, canting his head as he pulled the system out of grubby hands slowly, letting him fight with what to say apart from the apparent, "HEY!"_

_"Tell me about your team mates._

* * *

"I've worked here for six months! I have no friends, I don't like peanut butter, Andy stole the water bottles from the conference room refrigerator and replaced them all with vodka! I love mmmmyy coun...country, and yes captain Redfield drinks on the job and I'm soooo SOOORRRYYY!" Caved like a house of cards... Luka was staring at Finn, patting him on the back and shaking his head 'understandingly' patting a hand over his weak little shoulder blades, the youngest member of Alpha practically weeping over the tension that had built up in his chest all day long, trying to breath and finding no reprieve as he was looked down on by this Russian authority figure, one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner that asked if that was all. "I... I..., Carl calls Andy's girlfriends after they leave his place, Andy calls Carl's ex-girlfriend to gloat about it... Um um... Captain Redfield had an affair with general Valentine when they were both back from Africa, and and... I don't know what do you want from me!?" Finn was a wreck of chewed nails to the quick and finally was huffing in giant gasps of air fumbling over himself as Luka released his shoulder and palmed his combat knife still swaying in the table to cram it back in his boot sheath, letting Finn control himself.

It was a semblance of control. It was the kind of control he wanted him to feel. If he thought those questions were the kind he wanted answered then he was relaxed now that he had gotten it all off his chest, loose lips wanting to wag now that they had finally given it all away. Captain Redfield was a drunk. He knew that, just from watching him, a lot of mixed up angst there, but this was what he wanted... all the information on Alpha team's dirty secrets poured out at once. Andy Walker was a trouble maker, and Carl was his sloppy second. Apparently general Valentine let captain Redfield get away with everything because she was infatuated with the man; meaning not to take a single complaint directly to her. Finn would leave the North American branch of S.O.U. if he was given enough incentive-

"SHUT IT MACAULEY!"

Luka was about to turn, but someone did it for him, hands winding in his uniform twisting him around in his seat and shoving that broad upper body against the table top uniform bunching up; while Finn almost peed himself from shock. If he hadn't known who it was, he might have fought back; used leverage to bury his shoulder into the gut of whoever grabbed him and flip him over on the table top. But it was Piers' fist winding powerfully in his uniform, bending him over backward on the lip of the table's edge with one leg over his waist and legs on the bench pinning him there, and in that instance, it wasn't at all disturbing. Of course this was how Nivans worked... always so uptight, so easy to get to trip up on his upset. You could time a clock with how long it took before Piers was at your throat for back talk. "Agent Nivans, I was just about to look for-

"Beat it Finn... I don't want any witnesses when I kill him." Finn was gone in a heart beat, stumbling over himself. Hazel eyes locking on ice blue as they stayed there, one trapped under the other's thigh, with a forearm and fist holding down his torso into the bruising wood table top edge. "I don't know what your problem with Captain Redfield is, but it stops here, understand? When someone threatens my team I'm not above making sure the Russian S.O.U. signs off when I deliver them your corpse. Trust me, I am not kidding you Gvorik, keep your prying questions away from this unit or so help me I will make sure the next round I shoot goes through your eye." Nimble fingers were coaxing the uniform around Luka's throat tighter even though the man never lost his stride once, just maintained his straight face, not amused or upset as the Piers judged him eventually relenting his grip and righting himself apart from the leg pinning Luka in his seat. "If you knew him captain, you would understand. I'm not sure what you are doing here, but I don't need to know. Just keep Chris out of it."

"You are impressively strong agent Nivans..."

Piers cocked a brow, his entire presence changing at the statement, hearing the tone in his voice, not patronizing, but admiring. Luka wasn't at all staring at his face though, bring that wry amusement to youthful features, following his line of sight which was planted openly on the well muscled leg across his lap, following the journey of each rigging that hugged and exhibited his legs. Rolling sharp eyes and righting himself, fingers relenting their hold and brushing out the wrinkles they had formed briskly the soldier let himself come off the adrenaline high his voice tempering out. "I'm a soldier Lucky. I was bred to be strong. I told you to keep your eyes forward."

"True... but what if when my eyes are forward... it happens to be you are sitting in my lap... _agent_." Two sets of eyes caught each other, eagle sharp watching the wild in those icy cold ones capable of sending frostbite through the thickest skin, searching for a reason to shift his leg and bury his knee in a place that the Russian might regret for the rest of eternity. "I wasn't just asking about your captain you know... of course you wouldn't know that because it was what you were looking to find... you are strangely loyal to the man. In honesty agent, I am more curious about you... I've heard everyone on this base say the same things. That you are married to your job, a man apart. That no one has ever seen you with a woman, and yet your girlfriend has you wrapped around her little finger. That you are the best that the B.S.A.A. has ever recruited since the great captain Redfield... and that you are playing captain when you should be one in rank. Tell me something, is there a reason why even though I've never seen you... with anyone. You insist on telling people you are a taken man?" Pier was watching carefully, jaw clenched as pale skin rested on his calf, squeezing through fatigues the two still locking eyes together. "You are a truly impressive man agent Nivans, one who deserves for his strength to be appreciated. You claim you don't need it," strong hands gripped tighter, coaxing a single change of expression from Piers that reflected exactly what he'd hoped to see. That single moment of the want to give him, "But what if I told you I wanted to be the one to appreciate you. All of you." Luka's hand moved slowly upward, feeling the defined muscle in a tensed calf.

Piers lips pouted just the slightest before Piers jerked his leg back over the side of the table bench, giving him a look somewhere between annoyed and flattered. "You aren't shy about what you want, are you captain?"

"I find that shy gets you no where. I, on the other hand, know exactly where I want to be."

"And where exactly _is_ that Lucky?"

Luka smirked, standing up until he towered over Piers forcing him to look up at him, lips pulling in a tight smile as he covered a hand over Piers' spare. "I think you know the answer to that agent," rubbing his thumb over the top of Piers that was resting atop his rifle muzzle, hazel eyes cast down at the gun before up again, sucking in his cheek trying to force himself not to smile at the advances. The noticeable attempt teased Luka's own smile to widen, stroking his fingers over the top of that trigger finger until those fingers were swiftly jerked away; rifle hoisted up on that lean shoulder and given a disinterested shrug, putting an end to those propositions. A coy smile was all he was he needed to know that he'd lost.

"Sorry Lucky... lady calls."


	4. Chapter 4

Luka's whim to watch the preceding battle of evaluation seemed to prove a rather uneventful morning. His time had been spent examining all of Alpha team and its goings on, but since most had been taking leave this afternoon and the only two who hadn't were running the drill, it seemed only fitting to stay with them when extended the offer. It had been veteran officer Ben Airhart supervising, and A.T.L. sniper Piers Nivans running ground exams. As riveting as it was to watch ops back at home, these were puppies fresh into training and each one trying ot prove themselves by making their first big mistake of sending their only senior officer ahead to collect intel and then o hold position until they joined him at rendezvous point Whiskey Six. It left time to watch Ben in his... 'hair-raising' adventure of marking which soldiers follow orders, which make the better choices, playing the part of Headquarters for the man calling in orders. He would have preferred to be on the ground than up here, but he was an intel officer, sitting with a man who's mouth ran a mile a minute and time to spare. "Tell me agent... how many of these officers make it in your training programs... they seem to be running basic operations from the ground, nothing out of the ordinary. Have you run these before?"

"Charlie, sounds of distress to your backs, check surrounding buildings." Two fingers removed from the com switch that played out on the control panel before them, lightswitches going from green to red once his hands removed, pulling his mic out of place; flicking his gum over his teeth before sucking it back into his mouth, flattening it against the roof, popping it over his tongue and blowing a bubble the size of his fist. Slurping all the air back in, Ben shrugged his shoulders, finally giving his attention back to the russian who sat patiently, watching their comrade clear out 'enemies' played by other teams, his weapon dropping the air out of lungs with rubber bullets. "It don' work if they don' get hurt, at least that's what the captain says..." Swivel chair glided across the room, throwing a switch on the board and hitting the com device. "Delta, you've got movement at 12'oclock, meet with deadly force." Removing his hands again he waited for the chirp and a roger, before swirling back to face Luka. "I've done... I don' know... six of um? Nivans has done thirteen. Always does the field work though, he ain' interested in the up tops. Gotta say, guy can get 'er done though right?" A rough finger prodded one of the screens, pointing to the sniper as he rounded a corner and put two in the first person he saw, one in the head and one in the chest, never breaking stride before continuing on, calling in to his team leader and radioing the hit. "Wha' abou' yer boys in the U.S.S.R? You boys run the drills there?"

"No." Bored blue eyes followed the single agent moving alone, ignoring the rookies. He had a job, and he'd done it for the day, at the moment he was far more interested in one thing and one thing only. The defined body moved like a cat through a jungle when taking out enemies time and time again, always ready for combat or the next reroute at hand.

"Then wha' the Hell you boys do ta train yer rookies?"

"We don't. If they die, they fail."

"Cold man, jus' cold... Charlie mission reroute, take the alley to your east instead of the mainroads." Large shoulders rolled, working out the kinks by raising the joint and popping it behind his cranium, yawning as eyes covered all screens, continuing to pull each muscled joint into place where the relief yawned about them, as well as a gaping mouth, sucking in air and huffing it out to fog up the nearest screen. "So you Russians are really tha' cold huh man? Well ya know it happens... We ain' never let no one in col' turkey before. All our officers are hand picked grunts from the B.S.A.A. bullpen. Well... all of um bu' Nivans. Cap Redfield pulled 'im outta the force during a deep under op. No one ever questions cap, but it always seemed kinda weird... at least til ya got rookie boy Piers coverin' yer ass in the field. Then dun make much of a difference. Hell, he's the youngest... well ya already know tha.' OI! Charlie, check all yer fuckin' corners. Dumb ass gonna get 'imself killed!" Ben scrunched his face, scratching the fuzz that had grown passed his normal clean shaven pace, patchy and not at all attractive. "'m growin' it out... wha' ya think?"

"I think you remind me of Walker's grandmother."

"HAHAAHAHAHAAH! Well tha's for damn sure! Goo' one Russian."

The drill continued on for a short while, Luka shaking his head while watching down his straight nose over the monitors that followed Piers. It had been two weeks since he'd had a mission with the team. Not that he was depressed with nothing to do, he had almost a thousand files that he carried with him at all times. Mission recordings that Headquarters supplied him with once he'd run his primary evaluation. When he wasn't spending time with the officers and getting to know them, information about them, then he was reading through them. Each read similarly, and each one confirmed exactly how he felt on the matter. But then until his time here was over all he could do was observe, and it was redundant confirming everything when he had the oppurtunities to witness them himself. Airhart wasn't exactly the kind of man he was looking for, but Walker was, and Nivans was. There were other references that he found that suggested that in his prime so was Captain Redfield, but the man was a drunk and he wasn't going to approach him on the matter, not just drunken but completely disrespectful of orders and authority figures. No captain Redfield was a founder anyway, he wasn't going to be leaving the North American B.S.A.A. anytime in the near future. A heart throb, over qualified sniper with an authority complex on the other hand... Luka couldn't help but let his pale lips draw into a smile, examining as they moved up yet another block, Ben's hillbilly voice thundering in the background of his thoughts, while the forefront of toying with ideas before grabbing a headset. "These are connected to the... individuals? Which is agent Nivans?"

"His private channel? Uhh... he's on call cue 4 if you really wan' 'im but 'm not sure he'll answer. Fella gets pretty into it. He's got the second best recor' on the course. At leas' as the lead man. Cap Redfield has the bes' time. An' then you know I got the third, pretty darn proud of it too because...

"Nivans?" The blond's fingers were already sweeping through his hair, pushing it back, a strangely nervous habitual routine that seemed to overcome him around these men, particularly around the sniper that was continually chiding him for it. Ben was still rambling on about this old passed time that he received the third best score on. Ben wanted to be a higher up, wanted to make the brass someday unlike the lifers that he called Chris and Piers, people like Luka, who never turned away from the field until they were dead or too damn old that someone forced retirement on them and then they bought a nice caliber gun and finished the jobs themselves. The line was nothing but static as he listened on, blue eyes resting on the monitors trying to find the sure shot through the mess of what was going on below, foot falls and groups of men all bunched together like an ill formulated plot gone awry and converted into the worst laid plans of the century. It was a fire fight. The S.O.U. was a response team for stealth and tactical operations, these rookies looked like someone handed them a gun in the war against Stalin and rushed into the open battle field facing down tanks. They had no chance. Charlie team was slowly regrouping with some close calls by the H.Q. coordinator, otherwise known as Ben, but the other team hadn't asked for aid just yet and Ben was letting them fail, writing down all that he observed while talking about his favorite span of history being the war of 1812. It wasn't until he spotted Piers up top in a bell tower, scope trained down to cover retreat that he finally broke into a smile, pale features pulling into a smooth sharky grin. "You should aim higher... leg shots won't kill your enemies." Tawny hair raised, fingers raising from his grip to flip a bird upward at the sky, shaking that same head and taking the next two shots that hit two men right in the lower gut, purposefully knocking the wind out of them for Luka to see. "Heh... are you upset with me printsessa?"

_'Printsessa? What do you want Lucky? I've got a job to do.'_

The sharp tenor didn't bother Luka one bit, the mechanical com set fuzzing out with a tinny addition to that pinpoint voice, sliding the headset on completely and amusement making his hidden smile widen while sitting back in the chair, watching happily while Piers pulled position from the church now that his team was gone, taking the stairs from what he could see from the sliver light of the windows until he emerged again at the back steeple entrance. "I was wondering what you were doing today after this training exercise was complete. Surely you aren't too busy to grant me a single night?"

_'Are you asking me out on a date Lucky?'_

"And if I was?"

'_Heh...'_ Piers looked up once from where he was standing against the wall, eyes never resting on the cameras that lay above them for this exercise but the point of the fact he knew that Luka was watching him etched perfectly on that lazy lifted brow before the perfect shaken and stirred mix of annoyance with amusement kissing the corners of full, down turned lips. _'Lucky we hardly even know each other, I'm not going out with you.'_

"And if we knew one another better?"

_'I might say yes just to entertain myself for a night, but we don't, dinner is off the table. Sorry Lucky.' _

"I like the odds Printsessa... how about this... I will answer any five questions you have of me, truthfully on my honor, and you do the same. If you are appeased by my answers, you allow me one night. A single night. And we'll skip dinner." If Ben had been paying attention to the conversation he might have spit up his cola, but he was steadily feeding orders through to the opposing team while they spoke. Ego building in the Russian, as he raising long limbs that came rested at the ankle across the center console, following the actions of the other soldier while he traveled and traversed through an alleyway wasted of old dumpsters. It didn't seem to phase the sniper, just a quick check to every crevice, corner, and call back over the open channel to his team who were far behind and back again. "Unless of course... you are not up for such a challenge." He knew he had him as soon as the voice cut in and out again just as fast, watching the rise and fall of shoulders. The twist of his neck canting to pop the joint and that little tell tale sign of his when his jaw clenched. "Just as I thought... well perhaps it is better then-

_' Five.' _

Piers flashed a splayed hand upward at the camera, five digits that brought a chuckle from the captain. The captain bobbing his head as fingers swept through the golden locks, shifting in his seat. "Alright then... you first agent... since you have graced me to play." Piers ignored him for a long while, but it was evidently not out of distaste. He was busy dispatching other agents and keeping radio silence during an Headquarters demanded com freeze. He was counting on his fingers over and over until they reached deadline, body slinking along a wall right passed a foe before climbing the wall of the enclosure they were meant to breach. Forearms flexing as the lithe sniper pulled himself upward, straightening his arms before swinging over his legs and landing in a crouch, fingers sliding unseen to the com device at his side as the radio buzzed in Luka's ears, icy eyes transfixed on the way the younger man started setting up shop, first his rifle.

_'... Why me?'_

The obvious question. Russian slightly exotic features narrowed at the screen, watching the detailed movements that was afforded such a well versed soldier, each single step done systematically as though an autopilot had taken over, but the love and care in those hands that moved his rifle and set up the bipod, flicked open the mag holder and slipped more rubber rounds with a jamming motion into place, hugging the weapon to his shoulder and hunting for the right angle, while silence filled the air. It was a game of cat and mouse, and though he'd expected the question there was no splitting hairs with one Piers Nivans, the man had a way about him that cut through the bullshit. It was endearing to Luka, he liked the brutal nature that masked an inner core no one was permitted to see. It was a narrow field he had to play with. Tell him too much and he would back out instantly, tell him too little and suffer the same consequences. It was risky and the added pressure of answering while on the clock made it all the more difficult. All the more challenging. A thing they both had quite in common. Rise the the occasion. "Because you are exotic. You are a caged animal, locked in a place where those around you only stop and admire. They do not appreciate what they have. A creature like yourself is put to waste when he can find no reprieve from the overly mundane that is offered him. Its only right that two exotic creatures find themselves together, is it not?" Luka smirked as he watched the answer registering with his observed and smirked as that slick tongue darted out from parted lips again, licking his upper tier. "Good... my answer pleases you. You know this game is quite fun agent. You react like a lie detector. That clench of the jaw when you stifle your thoughts... the little flick of your tongue when something interests you," the cool of his tone never urged discomfort on softer features, taking his chiding in stride and spurring the captain on his voice hitching when he got no desired reaction from his observations. "My turn. What's your favorite color?"

_'You're kidding me?'_ Piers face scrunched up before shrugging his shoulders, placing fake remote mines around the perimeter. _'Khaki. Boxers or briefs?_'

"Neither." The answer made the soldier on screen practically stumble, the question obviously was a joke or an attempt to make the blond feel some discomfort, though it only served its purpose better. Chuckling while glancing to the side at Ben who was now staring at him from the exotic animal speech he'd given, chewing on a toothpick with a mild disgust on his face along with some disbelief shaking his head. Luka cocking his head to the side in a questioning manner, while he poke again to Piers, and eyed the other agent, obviously something on his mind. "Favorite food?"

"You really tryin' to ge' Nivans... on a date? You do know tha' he's go' a woman right? He's damn near married to the job. I mean I know he's go' a pretty mouth, but he's no' into tha' shit..."

Curiosity peeked and the captain sat up, giving his attention swiftly from the com device to Ben. "You know who she is?"

_'Steak. How many women have you been with?'_

"I have been with only four in my life time and you have read my file agent Nivans... None of which were overlapping the other. There is no concern of that happening. You are far too valuable for that."

"Yeah I know 'er. Never leaves his damn side."

_'More concerned that you think being with a woman means you know how to handle a man.'_

"Do not concern yourself with such things agent, rest assured. I know exactly what to do with you. Do you believe in an afterlife?" It wasn't difficult maintaining the two conversations and he was well versed in the arts of multitask; particularly when he was finally getting the answers he wanted. "What is her name agent Airhart? I've not had the pleasure." Turning to give Airhart his full attention, fingers steeped together, examining his face while listening to a long exasperated statement in his ear over how if snipers took a long look at themselves in a mirror after the jobs they had then they would all come to the same conclusions. Piers always had that exasperated way about him, the kind looking for a straight forward answer, such was the point of giving him one that would take time and calculation. At least it had seemed it would take time. The ace marksman obviously understood that giving and taking information was necessary, let others draw their own conclusions based on the clipped responses. "If all snipers thought the same I wouldn't be interested in this game agent Nivans." He smirked watching the body language from the corner of his eyes, examining Airhart while he threw another set of faulty instructions toward the rest of the team.

"'er name is death ya dumb shit, everyone knows her. Course ya met 'er. Take a goo' look a' tha' screen."

Luka turned in his chair to examine the scene playing out before him. As the place was finished being set up and Piers cut his answer at a short sweet, 'no I don't believe in an afterlife, and made request over the radio about when was was his first time,' enjoying as the man finished his workand took up position at the town's square, body to the heap of concrete structure that spat water jettisoned into the air from the mouths of large stone fishes. Piers dropped his head against the cold stone wall of the fountain to his back, legs propped apart with his rifle resting between them, brushing his hands up and over; stroking the belly of the weapon. Heat radiated off his person, little droplets, and spray flecking across his face and cooling under each of their kisses, slow measured breaths taking in oxygen around him while the team continued to play catch up. His mind was elsewhere... everywhere but the mission at hand which was just a petty little trial run to see how long it took new recruits to run a town square op. And he wasn't even fixated on the questions that Luka continually answered clearly and precisely as though they were average questions. "Fourteen. I married her."

Clear the setting, that was all they had to do, but since it was a dry run the designated leader pulled stupidity and gave Piers the scout job. He wasn't a pointman, he was a sniper, and they sent him in first to clear up, meaning all the other side routes had to be cleared up by all those inexperienced dumb shits that didn't understand a proper training drill. He'd be sitting here another hour before they caught up with him, an hour left to reminiscence. An hour to let his hands play with the barrel of his rifle and slide down precariously, his mind with it to the ejection port, catching on the edges before his spare hand slipped contentedly away into the magazine rig on his upper thigh, emerging successful with a bullet that was pressed to his own lips, parting his lips and flicking his tongue against it once while those diligent digits rubbed continually over the place each shell emerged once spent, catching his glove on it every time that the tips dragged over the rim, a familiar heat taking seat in his stomach and burning low, simmering while the world died away and his thoughts traveled to the first mission he'd shared here, only he'd been the rookie, and Chris was his evaluation officer. There had been a back story. A long one between the two soldiers that seemed to stretch a lifetime of sexual tension, but not either one was willing to share with others. They were soldiers, not the type for mucked up fantasy, all he knew was that in the cool of the fountain water, brushing olive skin and his hands floating expertly over the contours of his rifle. With Luka purring in his ear, he could still hear Chris screaming instructions over the com at him from back in the day. Luka raised his brow watching Piers zone out entirely, watching the knowing hands caress the 'lady' in his hands and immediately a smile broke over his features, peeling off the com set and putting it away, not concerning with finishing his other questions. Each one answered a specific set of things about the sniper, but that one answered so much more, hand on the door to the observation deck. "Thank you... agent, for this most _educational_ process." He would have to forgo dinner... it was time to change tactics.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to those of you who waited for the next chapter of this! Sorry i've been slacking on some things. I did a few oneshots and then decided to finish Jealousy so that I could work on the things that require my attention, however! Those of you reviewers who poke me into action deserve an applause. It keeps my inspiration going and reminds me what I should be working on next. Enjoy!**

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Leading Finn tripping to the door; Piers whistled down the nearest cabbie two fingers slipping into his mouth as he called for him. Peeling back the door the sniper tucked the youngest member of Alpha inside and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You did good today Finn, don't feel obligated to chase drinks with Andy next time, but you did good in the field. I'll see you in a few days, go sleep it off." Paying the driving with an overly abundant tip, and explicit instructions to get his young rookie back in one piece, the street address was relinquished; Finn never got the chance to make an ass out of himself. Two thumps on the roof of the cab, and the sniper was back inside the thundering bar, windows and outside buzzing, inside blaring. Rather than rejoining the team immediately he let hazel eyes trail from his fellow soldiers, Andy drinking Carl under the table, to the two captains stoically talking in the corner, a pile of drinks in front of both and taking his pick as he eyed Chris. "Captain." Both looked up, but it was Redfield the sniper was addressing whilst he sat without orders, slipping into the booth beside the brunette. Their legs brushed together under the table while one hand trailed unnoticed over that hugely muscled thigh, heating his finger tips. They'd been together for almost a year, but not a person knew it. No one in their team wouldn't have put it passed them, but no one expected it either. Piers came off as the type, he read like an open book that way, but he also came of as an immense hard ass, even on their captain which made them incompatible that way. Chris didn't take shit, including the kind of 'straight and narrow' Piers forced him down. They were completely professional in the field, and even moments like this were rare, thumbing one of Chris' empty glasses with his spare hand, rubbing circles with the other. Chris wouldn't call it dating, neither would Piers. They didn't go anywhere together. They weren't the lovey type that wanted someone to go to the movies with, or enamor themselves with, or someone to take to dinner and fawn over dresses with. They were soldiers. That didn't mean though at the end of the day, sober as the moment he was born, that the A.T.L. of Alpha team didn't want to get his point across when he wanted attention, hand grazing the inside of his captain's well muscled thigh teasingly, right across from a captain who had just joined there team seemingly unaware. There had been a long mission earlier, one that had taken almost a week in the trenches to accomplish. One that left them all weary and ready to relax. Or in Piers case, it had left him seeking the man who he admired for the rush of being alive.

"Yeah." Chris snickered, the hand on his leg drawing little attention from those around him thanks to his partner's discretion, but he couldn't help the twinge of want that bubbled through the vodka, shifting position intentionally to get the message across; until their thighs were flush together and nimble quick fingers were slipped between his legs, beneath the lip of the table. "He's taken..." Chris rumbled the words, gathering up his next drink, and ignoring the way Piers was looking at him that way he had, annoyance mixed and shaken with the hint of amusement, all playing together while his fingertips teased the fabric between Chris' legs, methodically working him toward distraction. His partner ignoring that he'd walked in on a conversation mid-way, not caring as his hand traced the outline of Chris' growing erection. "Nivans has a girlfriend." Those roughly massaging fingers halted instantly, Chris reaching down less than noticeably to hold them in place grinding just the slightest against his hand, ignoring the look on his partner's face while Chris' hand tightened around his wrist to something more painful. Chris didn't give a shit what people though about them, particularly when he was drunk. Over all he didn't mind playing along, but that was on the field. Here and now he wanted something more. The something when Chris use to play along with his sniper and they'd make up excuses to leave with one another and spend the night. It was never loving. Piers didn't expect loving. Honestly, sex with Chris, his relationship with Chris had always been the same. He dominated Piers. They'd get halfway in the door, slam it shut and Chris would never let them get to the bedroom. Whatever surface was good enough to throw his partner up against. Now however it had turned into just sex. There was no relationship anymore and it was starting to grate the nerves. Coaxing those fingers to continue even though it was clear Piers didn't want to after discovering the conversation had been about himself , about a girl who didn't exist. And the fact that Chris was never willing to take the leap and say something other than that little line, or just dropping the subject. Now a days Chris didn't pay any attention to him whatsoever... Unless it was the once in a while booty call where Chris called him up after too many vodkas. Luka didn't miss the narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Piers read easily, where Chris read like a drunk.

After their conversation over the coms, Luka hadn't spent any time with the sniper outside of missions, and even then the only time he spoke with him was over the coms. Cooing little remarks about the competency of the man who was sitting across from them, hazel eyes transfixed on his captain, who wouldn't look him in the eye. It didn't take a lot to figure out what was going on after that little performance at the fountain, and the tiny dropped hints. Piers had a relationship alright. A one sided relationship with the B.S.A.A.'s finest, and not a person in their S.O.U. gave him what he wanted. It was no wonder he pulled away from them so sharply after missions. Yet for reasons unknown he still subjected himself to their captain, who had the singular talent, of calming those sharp features, or making him into a ball of fury. Like he was now, glaring at Chris as though the vodka was muting how pissed he was at his captain for saying what he had. Though why, Luka couldn't quite say just yet. Just that the sniper had had enough. That much was clear. "She is a very lucky woman indeed captain." Gauging responses carefully through icy cold eyes, each swallow and breath went measured through those intuitive irises. Perfect symbols as that clenched jaw and disquieted expression mutated to upset on Piers part, a single jerk of the body freeing him of both the table and his captain's grip. It was a fairly strong motion considering it was just sliding from the booth, and yet his jacket was in his hand immediately, and Luka saw the quick covered hurt. "You are leaving agent?"

"I'm not in the drinking mood."

"You never are." Chris sneered the last line, not bothering to look at his A.T.L. while seating a crystalline glass on his lower lip and tipping back his next whiskey. "Loosen up Nivans. Go find a cheap woman and fuck her. Get it out of your system so you can stop trying to play mommy for the rest of _my_ team."

"Is that what you plan on doing captain? Loosening yourself up by finding some random hooker?"

They were biting the words at each other, but it was clearly not the first time they'd had this little scuffle, Luka's brow furrowing as lips curled back over white canines, and their mutual captain snarled. "Maybe." Piers scoffed, pulling his jacket over his lithe frame until it was situated comfortably and turned away, shaking his head. "Why, are you offering Nivans?" The mid-step halt, rubber soles statue stiff as the words left Chris' mouth, the only sign he was even a person anymore the almost silent growl Luka heard. And then he was gone. The door of the bar slammed so hard behind him it nearly came off the hidges, while Chris never turned to look back at him only continued to 'enjoy' his whiskey, snapping his fingers for another. The blond stared for a long while... perhaps a full minute before rising from the booth with his own jacket. "Don't bother going after him. He's a ghost." Amber fluids sloshed to and fro in their vessel, swimming free a cube a clear glittering diamond until it was drowned to the back of an already drunk man's gullet.

The implication that Piers was a whore was no doubt what made him vanish, but Luka was fairly good at finding people, and Piers didn't have a car. He lived around here. He'd discovered that little piece of information when Chris had mentioned a designated diver needed a car. On foot, with longer legs Luka found him easy. He wasn't trying to be a ghost, but he did walk close to the wall and with enough of a stride that it took him fast and far from the bar in that single minute Luka had waited to follow him. He hadn't expected it, but with that side comment about Piers needing to loosen up, combined with the fact that they were always by each other's side. It made it clear what had transpired there. No wonder the sniper always defended his captain, when his captain was also his lover. One that clearly didn't give a rat's ass if he just called one of the sharpest men he'd ever met, a whore. It made perfect sense. Why the sniper was constantly so persistent that he was taken but couldn't say who. Relationships within the program weren't permitted. Combine that with the fact that their team was comprised of men who served with a certain amount of surety that their team was made of men who were bonded by brotherhood. The whole team would look differently at both of them if they knew the truth. Piers was their A.T.L. He required respect to drive these men and he'd never have it if they knew he was in a relationship with their captain. Both of them would instantly loose everything. Still... Luka hadn't expected it in the least. With the sniper's disdain for booze, and disrespect, Captain Redfield seemed like a perfect candidate for him to put in the prime examples of men who didn't deserve that exotic tiger.

Spotting the back of sun faded leather, Luka took note of the perfect posture. Even frustrated and walking in the dead of night down the city streets, Piers managed to hold himself in higher regard. Just like him. Faintly smiling in a rueful way that pulled his lips across his pale profile. Angled features even more white in the off lit street sides. Long, lean legs taking him right up beside the sniper. It was clear he'd noticed him. Casting shadows on the brick wall side them, longer limbs stretched and distorted with each step, the Russian moved along side him in synchronization for some time, no words spoken between them. The body language was discussion enough. The jacket that covered the sniper's body was short in the sleeve intentionally, only three quarters like the rest of his shirts. His nimble hands and finger tips were delved deep in the pockets, clenched in tight fists judging by the lump in the material, with the slight hunch of his shoulders that others wouldn't have even marked. He was upset, but this wasn't uncommon. This pace, stance, and familiarity with the walk informed the Russian his object of affection had walked this route many times. And after a long while of standing side by side in metronome walk, heel-toe for almost a mile, that musical voice greeted the bated air. "Headed home Lucky?"

"Not exactly Printsessa. My home is much to far for us to walk. Provided that is, one can walk across an ocean."

"Heh..."

Piers never looked up from the slight downcast, reading the ground and gravel like signs in the battle field as they walked even though at least now the lines of communication had been broached. "You deserved better than-

"Don't start Lucky. Not now."

They were quiet again, Luka taking the hint from Piers even though after a few more seconds of unsettled breathing the sniper was finally relaxing, letting his hands slip from their caverns and hanging to those slim sides. Counting the rungs in a ladder of the fire escape they passed under on their route. He knew the answer from having crossed it before, but it was ritual. Sniper's thrived on ritual. He let him continue, reading him and absorbing the tiny details of this moment. Piers recovered well from such things, far easier than a man in his position should have, unless this was a regular thing for them. The captain had no idea what he was doing... Luka however, he understood very plain and simple. Chris didn't deserve those devoted stares and strong backup he had with this man. And where as he might have kept distance before now in order to at leas follow a certain protocol when perusing the younger brunette, procedure was out the window the moment Chris opened his mouth. "Your friends are rather blind to have thought that rifle you carry is your lover..."

"Luka."

The tone was dangerous, but the Russian continued on, no fear of it broaching topics that Piers would not be opened to discuss. He would leave his drunken captain for another time. This was about them, he wouldn't pass the bridge until they came to it. For now though, there was a very small window, one he intended to take full advantage of. "No, certainly not a lover. The way you caress it... That is, self adulation. It clearly is no woman the way you stroke it." The moment that Chris was no longer the destination of this conversation, Piers person immediately relaxed on the spot, visibly more confident as they moved.

"You're examining how I stroke my rifle now Lucky? I hope you got a good look, because its the only thing you're ever going to see get stroked."

"Really? Here I had hoped for this night to go in my favor." He laughed with the light musical hum of the man beside him, watching his expression carefully with a cant head and healthy peripherals, watching for that curl of the lips that came whenever he distracted Piers' imagination. It was a simple game, but the hardest he'd ever played to the day. "Do you know why I asked you for your favorite color, assistant team leader?"

"Because when you started stalking me you couldn't find my kindergarten records?"

"Because it tells me more about you, more than questions like your own. I was raised in the intelligence community agent Nivans. We extract more information purely on what you don't say than what you care to divulge. Such as... khaki."

"Alright Russian... you have three miles to impress me. Get anything wrong though and you're getting a cab and leaving me to walk in peace."

"I do love a challenge agent... I would be more than pleased. I shall begin." Luka blew just the slightest air he could see exhaled from his lungs, walking through it as their pace quickened just the slightest whist passing the busy side streets of Main and Cross. Roads that led to the most watering holes for those camels who felt the urge to bulldoze through several pints of beer. However, not the kind of place one might find a soldier. A blaring horn took over for the buzz of engines, and a roaring mustang when it came careening through and off again into the darkness leaving taillights to watch in the distance. Or rather, watch his subject, watch. No... now wasn't time for games, it was for brutal honesty, the best kind, and the only kind that Luka was good at. "he color means more than anything you would recognize. A first look when men look at you..., they do not see who you are. They see a soldier. You intentionally have made it this way by putting yourself in such things. Khaki. You do not care for favorite color. Such things are not useful in duty, however... it is the color you wear the most frequently. Because of that very thing. It buries you." He heard Piers breathing, the way it hitched and pulled, the maintained silence while his jaw clenched and a moist tongue flicked out to wet the lower tier, dry form the night air. Brows knit in a kind of confusion that meant for his observer to continue, elaborate on him. "You have, brilliantly sharp eyes agent Nivans. And yet no man on your team notes that those hazel eyes they enjoy so much are not so much a hazel as they are brown, flecked with gold. They do not notice... because you draw attention away from the color by wearing similar such things. You do not wish to stand out, but blend. That is, it works truly well, however I still see the spark of fire behind your eyes..."

"Stay on topic Lucky. Khaki. What else does it... '_say'_ about me."

Nodding visibly, the Russian took in a deep breath that filled the lungs, cracking one knuckle, then the next until he had completed and they stopped short at the next light. Piers was refusing to look at him, but it didn't hide the perfect way light danced off his eyes, or how those sarcastic eyes flicked to observe him whilst the don't walk sign flagged those oncoming passersby. Luka took the opportunity to flash him a smile, not one that was overly corny, nothing wide and unbelievable. Just a small thing, one that showed no teeth, but brought some motion to his own features. That patented thin lipped one, while pushing back locks of blond hair, with his palm once over. "It says you are not looking for a woman." The statement drew narrowed eyes wide, head snapping to the side and staring Luka down as though he could cause Luka to dematerializing right in front of him with that exacting gaze, that hedged no comedic notion. "No man who has an interest in women, calls brown... khaki. Most soldiers, I have observed..., hardly know the term what so ever." The light changed, and Piers didn't continue their walk, merely stared all the longer, that strong jaw clenched uncomfortably. "It is a sign of your attention to detail as well. You do not wish to simply name something its most broad term, but something more definitive. You are precise in all you do." Luka's words may have seemed those that might have wanted to cover up his prior statement, but his tone spared nothing. It was explanation rather than cover up. As though perhaps his precision evolved into his choice in men as well, though the added comment only served to make their stand off all the more uncomfortable, that was until Piers spoke.

"So I'm immaculately gay?" Humor danced finally behind the tone, but his eyes still said something uncomfortable. A light chuckle and he was walking again, shaking his head. Two miles to go, one shaking his head at the other whofinally smiled again once Piers had proved he held no discord from being called out on the reality behind what he was. There was no sun, and in the city, no stars either, but it was still easy to see the dark gloom overhead. It was over cast, thunderous clouds rolling in and as though on cue as long stride brought the taller, broad man up beside the sniper, the sky opened up and weeping huge drops in only a matter of seconds. It didn't seem to phase their walk though, not with Piers. His shoulders hunched just a bit to fight the cold, and continued on, even when the down pour muffled the sound of his voice, with the sound instead of drops hitting the pavement. "What else does khaki say about me, hm Luka?"

The Russian, smiled and noted how Piers was watching it, eyes transfixed on him. Not brief like the other times, but was examining him while they walked, watching Luka's thinner lips move as he sucked in each breath. And how his lashes blinked successively whenever Piers brought his eyes up from that mouth. "It says... you do not like being social. That you prefer to be alone." There was a short nod, that brought Luka's attention from those startling eyes, to the water running in little rivulets down his jawline. They were drenched in a matter of minutes. One in uniform, and the other in half his regulars. Luka was in complete uniform dress, as he was every day when he spent time with the Alpha unit he had been assigned. Piers was wearing that charcoal grey leather that made the pitter patter of rain drops more obvious, with the collar upturned to hid his neck. That did not go unnoticed. Piers hid his neck all the time, with his scarf or jacket collar, either way so that no one could see it, like a protective coating. Still the drops sliding down his youthful features and down to just the top edge of his neck made Luka was to latch his mouth onto that warm flesh and bite him. Suck on his throat until he left behind a lovely mark on that naturally olive skin. He was soaked through and the same was said of Luka, water coating his features, but it would make it so easy to slickly slide his mouth over that skin and suck while the rain drops drowned out, a no doubt throaty hum.

Shaking his head the soldier tore his focus from that tan savory idea back to that which he could see. Since he had heard Airhart's confession the last day about Piers' rifle being the lover that Luka had been so wary not to offend, his imagination had run away with him completely. Another reason for his silence whenever they were together. He wasn't 'shy' or 'concerned,' he was trying to figure out how to use that information to his benefit without thinking of the many ways he could coat that skin with his own sweat and saliva. Luka was not one to pretend however, and let his mind travel where it would, from that smooth neck he could only imagine, to observing the way the rain made the signature flip in short strands come down and the hairs drooped just over Piers' perfect brows. His words never ceased however, because now it was proving his prowess, even as he thought of taking a handful of those locks while Piers put those sinful lips about him. "Khaki tells me you like the rain, because you are grounded." Without permission, the older soldier, reached forward with long fingers, calloused pads pushing the strands that fell back just as he did to hand on both, on Piers, and in his own hair, pushing it back as water clung to it and held it in place, leaking drops down the sides of his face.

Invading Piers' space was a death sentence for any man, he'd seen lesser people hit for coming close to touching him without being first given the permission to do so. The only time it was acceptable was when the sniper himself initiated the contact. However Luka's hand strayed, pushing back the locks, until they'd both stopped moving. Luka had on hand, weaving in the short strands, stroking the locks of tawny hair back while Piers stared into him, through him. Ice blues caught those sharp oculars for some time, letting the action continue until at last Piers shook his head and continued their walk, the locks of hair slipping back down his forehead. "It says that underneath that hard shell and strong personality of yours... you are actually very... _soft,_" though the word itself was spoken with every lewd intention on the tip of Luka's tongue. his tone snaked and his eyes scanned the man before him, not hiding the hunger in those icicle colored oculars that feasted on Piers and sent a chill down his spine. As though with every word he was undressing him. "You put up a front, so that everyone will see the hardened soldier that you are, but what you really want," thick accent made the conversation all the more exotic, but there were minor breaks in speech. Luka searching for a word that he thought would be perfect for it rather than a random Russian word he would use when he couldn't think of the complete translation. It was chopped, and yet in ways completely smooth. "What you want is for someone to tear down those tough walls you hide yourself behind and break them until you are free to be you. For someone to dominate you so that you no longer have to be in charge. For a man to hold you down and cover your body in-

"Do you want to come upstairs?"

Luka had stopped at the same time as Piers, looking up into the rain at the building they stood in front of, the drops pouring down on them together as they stood there in silence for some time. It was so startlingly quick that time had moved and yet here they stood all the same. Piers voice was sharp as it always was, sharp, but it didn't hid the erratic movements he made with his eyes to the building and back and the fingers that pushed into his pockets searching for something. Gasping in quickly through through his teeth, the cold air gnawed them both in the rain and looking once to the door, signalling to it with a set of keys he'd pulled from his back pant pocket, Piers didn't need to tell him he'd only ask once. It had been what Luka wanted, but the slight sound that crept in those vowels as he spoke. It appeared very clearly to be the sound of desperation, mingled so finely with his natural tone and anxiety. He'd heard it many times before in lesser men. But then what should he have expected? It was very clear that the man he was goading into giving him this invitation wasn' one how easily gave himself over to carnal wants. He was pushing Piers for this, why else follow him in the rain? Say those things to him that seemed to put bated breaths between them? So the question truly was, was he the kind of man to take advantage of this situation? Most certainly. "That sounds... perfect."

* * *

**Singin' in the raiinnnn**


	6. Chapter 6

Soaking wet, Piers crossed the lobby, stepped up, and tapped the elevator key with his forefinger and middle finger glued to one another. Calloused pads embracing the touch, tapping his foot impatiently. Luka hadn't had the pleasure of ever seeing Piers look in the slightest bit nervous, however it seemed now that there was a clear difference since uttering the words that had brought the taller Soviet within the confines of his home. There had been moments where he had seen the tell tale signs of unease in the sniper's hands, but nervous was a single attribute that this man, no matter the situation seemed to maintain complete control over. No matter the situation; Piers controlled his environment using all the gifts supplied to him when in the field, and at times, even off. And yet, he couldn't control the speed that the elevator plummeted at, or the tension that had settled between their bodies from the walk here. Certainly it would have been easier for them to bypass the elevator all together, and judging by the set of keys in his hand that he continued to swing in perfect circles about one of his fingers, he would have if given the chance. Courtesy, something the Russian had once debated, thriving in this man had raised its ugly head. Drips tumbled to the ground at their feet, waiting for the singular metal box to descend upon them, pooling water the longer they waited, in a trail as Piers' shifted from foot to foot, pacing the front of their transport. A few spare drops had formed from the longer strands of brunette hair, out of place from the pouring rain. Hazel eyes watching them slide down in front of golden orbs before taking their final journey to the veined floors beneath their feet, ignoring them with a brush of his forearm across his forehead, shoving the strands away and smearing water off onto leather.

The lobby, if you could call it that, of this establishment, wasn't all that fancy. It was simple, with a barred front door and an elevator just inside along with its accompanying stairs. A building built in the earlier years and had not been cared for in some time, by its tenants or land owner; though it still had a classic charm about its rough interior. Either the sniper spent little time here, or he simply didn't care where he lived; because it was clear he could have had a better place easily. Piers' position as an assistant team leader, for the leading Bioterrorist Resistance organization afforded him that much at least. There was a clear line that Piers refused to cross with his job and his personality. Simple tastes for a simple man. Luka hadn't even seen anything but this landing, but it was clear by the refusal to greet his icy eyes with his own warm ones, that Piers was taking no notice of his comrade's observation skills. Boot marks filled the lobby floor. The high heeled mark of a woman's shoe, as well as the smudge marks from other patrons, speaking volumes of the traffic that came through. At least a variety of fifteen from the passed few minutes of rain alone judging by the marks alone. If the Russian had to venture a guess along the lines as to why Piers had an apartment downtown rather than a place of his own, his first guess would be, that he never came home. He knew otherwise though, since each night after training, or morning that was, at about two. The sniper would leave for the remaining hours of the rising sun, not to be seen again for another four. A place to sleep.

He wanted to stop analyzing, however his subject of affection was doing enough vexation for the both of them. For the first time in a very long while, Luka was not in the least bit interested in analyzing the youthful soldier before him, stilled as a statue finally as his instincts overcame distress. All except those silver keys which caught the light upon every rotation, spinning. The soft mellow ping heralded the arrival of their elevator, alerting them both from their thoughts. Piers pushing himself sideways to slip through opening doors; hit the top floor button, leaning on the back wall, with his weight rested in his hands pinned behind him on the rail. The blond joined him in the same fashion only slower, tempering Piers anxiety with his own calm. Pulling free of his jacket and resting it in the crevice of his elbow, the Russian revealed the soaked through shirt he wore in the fashion as a man who knew his physique for a well made body. It was a black shirt that hugged every contour, of every muscle of that body, built with broad shoulders and a slim tapering waistline.

There was silence. The kind of soap opera, waiting to be kissed in an elevator kind. The kind that instantly gave reason for color to rise to Piers' immaculate features; looking away to the steel wall beside him in an effort to let the effects of the proximity to go unnoticed. Shoving fingers through rain soaked locks to push them back, clenching his eyes shut; Piers could hear his blood in his ears, . It felt so wrong, and completely awkward being the person to think this way. As far as all was concerned, Piers had never been that person. The wait for me type, that prolonged everything until the tension was enough you could cut it with the knife that the commie hid in the small of his back. The kind where it broke as soon as the doors shut and they would be completely filthy with one another here in this elevator before ever even reaching the apartment. He was already involved with Chris though. Involved on a very graphic, very possessive manner. A jerk as much as he might be, and not entirely always forth coming about their relationship, or in fact never so, but Piers wasn't that guy. He didn't need someone to stroke his ego, or his... He had someone, even if that someone put him face down in the pillows and told him to not make a sound. "You should go." The words slipped out without warning, staring at the ground under his feet that had accumulated a puddle of water, where Luka stared upward at the ceiling in complete control over himself, not stirred by the comment. "I appreciate you walking with me and all Lucky, but.. well we both know where this is going, and it can't."

"I understand, Printsessa."

"What?" The baritone joined him, without looking away from the ceiling panels that covered the elevator as it whirred ever impending up the shaft, the sound jerking Piers from his thoughts. He hadn't expected him to agree. He wasn't even sure he wanted him to. It was partly disappointing, to think he was that easily deterred. It felt good having someone fight for you, knowing that for once someone wasn't willing to give in when he put on his soldier tone and spouted off an order. There was something about Luka, the same thing he had once seen in the captain who now presided over him. Even though they were playing this dance together, it had been cat and mouse since the beginning. It was clear to anyone raised with a military background that Luka wasn't here merely for the gathering of information for his country. If that were so, he would have been investigating multiple units, not a single one. He was looking for soldiers. And Luka knew, just as well Piers, he wasn't going to get a sniper like this one to leave Alpha team. It was the placement of each next step in the tango, leading each other with each new step. Still, it had been fun. Seeing how far Luka would go for him, where others would run and hide from a man like Piers Nivans. He wasn't feminine. Not by any means. He was a handful more than all the time and an A.T.L. to envy, with a career to look forward to with his ability as a marksman and command for leadership. Yet this man had made the sole decision that Piers was some how in need of someone who would, what? Dominate him? He had Chris. It was all he needed. Swallowing the growing lump in his throat; Piers nodded uncomfortably. It was better off to be alone tonight. Luka made him feel... uncomfortable at the best of times, and Chris would never understand, or forgive him for such a thing. Not with his penchant for violence whenever someone got all little too friendly with his sniper in the past. The key word being _his_. "You can come in. I'll call you a cab."

Neck craned up, staring that way at the ceiling, unblinking, showed a strong profile in the hideous ambient lighting of the elevator. Smooth milky white flesh that naturally glistened from the rain, finally shifting when the floors pinged slower; machines and cogs hidden whirred slowly to a halt. Piers exhaled at last, giving a short lived smirk that seemed to fade before it arrived. "Come on, I'll make you a coffee while you wait." Grinding to motionlessness, the doors of the elevator slid side by side until the portal relinquished them. Piers gave that all too subtle nod of the head, to offer Luka to follow, but it was cut off when the captain slipped before the shorter of the two. He couldn't help the bemusement on youthful features that lit his features. Steps, longer and quicker than Piers' own took to lead the sniper, even in his own residence It took a jog step to every one of those longer muscled legs stride to keep beside him. Stopping beside a door that Luka had passed over and giving a tenor chuckle. Piers gave a nod to it, pushing the jagged key into the tumbler, hearing it turn in the lock. "This is me."

The door swung back with a single push, hearing the door stopper block the impact as hallway light flooded the room, casting a white triangle against the wall. Stepping inside the dark of the threshold, a toss of keys in the dark, landing in a bowl on a side table that rested to his right was the greeting to the apartment. Singing testament into the sniper's knowledge of his home, even in the darkness, Piers pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and repeated the motion. The heavy door clicked shut behind him as he moved further into the entryway, the deadbolt sliding into place as Luka flicked the lock vertical. Piers jacket followed the keys, writhing out of its clinging wetness by letting it fall halfway down both arms; until he felt it dragged off his shoulders in a single yank. Slimmer body thrown against the wall with full momentum as the leather fell, disregarded someplace in the room; military instincts instantly took hold as his reflexes sharpened with his gaze. The sudden violent collision sent both men stumbling and clambering for balance, Piers' fingers snaring a wrist as he gained wrist control and pulled it up behind the frame in a standard hammerlock as if muscle memory had kicked in from his days of defense CQC. In return, heavy boot pushed back between Piers' muscled calves and hooked his ankle nimbly, tripping him backwards while turning on the instep to free himself of the vice-like grip upon his wrist, meanwhile attempting to gain steady footing. Two skilled hands upon the sniper's hips heaved him up against the nearby wall, back thudding against the drywall and ricocheting between it and the oppressing body that forced him upon it. Lips instantly crushing against his own mid grunt of air being forced form his lungs form impact, teeth clashing and causing jewels of blood to lips on soft bow shaped tiers, both fighting for dominance, as Piers' hand knocked up against the wall, searching up the flat surface for the switch; flipping the light to brighten the hall. Hazel eyes shot wide as he was caught, hands keeping him prisoner with their superior strength as Luka moved lips away from that gasping mouth he'd seized, and down that smooth jawline, ever lower. Latching to that always hidden throat and sucking, tasting every part of that forbidden flesh.

The sniper knew he should have said something, stopped him in some capacity before this could escalate, but his mind went blank; losing all instinctive reaction. Feeling those hands bracing him up against the wall, mouth bringing a rough grimace of pleasure from the sniper. He couldn't help but be paralyzed by each bite and graze of sharp white enamel on his normally hidden neck. Heat rose to his face, knowing full well the mark that Luka's mouth was leaving of purpled bruised flesh lay just beside that of another, the very reason for the scarf and collar in the first place. It didn't seem to give the Russian pause however, moving fingertips that hooked the soaking wet white attire that clung to Piers' body before hoisting it up and over his head, releasing his neck only to remove the material entirely.

"You... you have to go Luka. We can't do this." Piers felt warm, longer fingers splay over his ribs, pulling him away from the wall and backed through the entry way to the living room. "We need to stop."

"I know printsessa. I will go." Pale white hands twisted Piers with an iron-clad grip in one movement until his muscled back was up against Luka's barrel chest. Centripetal force however, favored Piers; spinning swiftly with the motion so fast it felt a blur as momentum was granted to him and taking hold of the hand that wrapped around his torso. They were soldiers, ones that weren't used to handing over power or control. It was a twisted dance between sensual movements and well trained counters, challenging one another for dominance. Even as Luka spoke his understanding words, his actions spoke contrary to their meaning. Piers had used the velocity to spin their bodies, bending his elbow as his own hand balled into a tight fist, leveling it with a firm shoulder as his extended elbow hurled back against the figure clutching him. Meaning to knock his opponent out with one swift shot, his elbow clashing against the thick meat of Luka's muscled forearm, which lifted just in time to block the attack, the force of throwing his elbow as well as it being blocked causing the back of his knees to press back against the lip of the couch, falling backwards roughly. Arms reached out for balance, falling back and reaching out in the same motion to grasp hold of Piers, pulling him along with gravity. The snatch jerked them off balance, and Piers followed him in step to fall into his lap; one lean leg on each side of that sculpted form, hands immediately taking better hold of those slim hips. He would have spoken but they were both slick with the rain and sweat from battling with one another, bodies slipping together faster than natural as Piers yanked the remains of Luka's uniform from his chest, tossing it over the back of the couch. They were quick, eager movements, the kind that spoke volumes of what was wanted. Lips sealed over Piers' nipple, hands shoving down the back of fatigues, gripping handfuls of smooth round flesh. "I should go, yes?" His words were breathy, teeth grazing that hardened nub of flesh with teeth, causing a moan to escape Piers' pouted tiers, a hissed 'yes.'

Impressive strength lifted the sniper and Luka from the couch cushions, never releasing his grip until he'd shoved Piers against the wall, legs wrapping around his Luka's waist slick upper bodies, sliding together as that mouth assaulted his neck again, using the wall as a brace to remove one hand reluctantly from that tight cheek in his hand to grip a hand full of Piers' damp hair, jerking his head to pull his features to the side, giving Luka better access to that tan flesh he craved so savor. He was relishing in all those pretty noises that he earned from Piers' pouted lips, raking his teeth on that flesh and marking it for his own, flicking his tongue in the hollow of his throat as two dexterous hands slipped between them, fumbling at the button to uniform pants that lay between them, growling at the frustration they gave him, even as Luka gave a harmonious chuckle over his irritation, releasing him with both hands to let Piers release his legs around his waist. Hands on his waist spun him around, hips ground against one another while well versed fingers wrapped around the front of him, holding them together while undoing the button and zipper of dark fatigues. They were shoving one another, pushing to get what they wanted, tripping over one another until Piers was half bent over the counter of his kitchenette gasping as his arms were pulled up over his head and cupped in one hand at the wrists while his body was ground against by those sweet movements from the man still insisting he was leaving, tasting every inch of Piers' lithe torso, bent over backward on he counter, exposing every inch of him to the ravenous mouth. Teeth and humid mouth trailed saliva across slim ribs sending goosebumps over that body he teased and mapped.

They were both winding around each other, slick bodies against one another as Luka finally pulled free those fatigues that had held loose on Piers' slimmer hips, jerking them off him as the sniper locked his elbows with palms pushing him up to sit upon the counter top. Ice blue eyes feasted on that body, taking in the tan dermis. It was then that baritone finally broke their rambling words of contrary actions, pulling Piers off the counter top into his arms and picking him up, hand gripping that muscled thigh and holding it palmed to his waist, watching as Piers' head dropped back against his shoulders in an unfettered gasp as their hips brushed together. "Where's the bedroom printsessa?" Piers whimpered when Luka stroked his thigh, gripping the other hand over his backside. "Where?" His tone was forceful, demanding as his hands rubbed, enjoying the tiny gasps of want.

He'd waited far too long playing the game of cat and mouse not to love the hoarse sonance the sniper was emitting, as he carried and pushed him through the homestead, both of them struggling aggressively for dominance, an instinct driven deeply within their hormones. Piers grappled with Luka through the apartment, ping-ponging against the walls as each physically commanded the other up against the narrow passageway; devouring each others mouths vigorously until they came to the bedroom. As they hit the room the entire situation shifted gears. The battle for physical supremacy was not yet decided, neither soldier yet mounting the other into submission. Luka brandished his strength as his thick arms rose to constrict around Piers' neck and shoulders; he would show this boy his true mettle. Careful not to harm the American A.T.L. while clutched in his grasp, a heavy grunt escaped his lips as his foot secretly slid behind Piers' heel, sweeping him down onto the mattress even as both of their chests heaved. Standing over his conquest, Luka placed his hands down upon the defined pectorals of the figure beneath him, his tone quite satisfied with himself. "My beautiful printsessa... Allow me to show you what real power is, hn?" Slipping between lean legs and thick thighs with no hesitation or shame, Piers let out a sharp gasp as that moist tongue darted out over the muscular contours of his inner thigh. "You're mine, krasivyy soldat." Russian words washed over Piers as his mouth fell agape, moaning in sweet tenor as that moist muscle teased up his bare physique, over the muscled 'V.' "Shakhta" It came as a growl while hooking Piers' leg with his own arm, dexterous sniper's fingers undoing the front of Luka's own uniform slacks and pushing them down. "Malo shlyukha...your body is a temple for my desecration, your flesh calls my name. I promise you printsessa, you will scream my name."

Filthy. It was drawn out, graphic, obscene; and Piers loved it. His own voice was lost, when he felt the evidence of their physical exchange brushed by his own calloused fingertips as he freed the blond from the confines of his remained garments, giving a hum of pleasure before Luka's hand smacked his own forcefully away, wrenching it up and over his head. "No printsessa, tonight... tonight you will only feel. I will show you how to beg. I am your captain now. Umolyat.'" Piers gave a sharp growl, cut off by being driven up the bed with the force of broad shoulders pushing him until the back of his head hit the headboard, their hips flush together, delicious friction forcing Luka's throbbing girth betwixt the smooth, firm cheeks of the man beneath him, a unison of inhalations through pearly whites as Piers could feel every inch of that foreign flesh slide slick again his puckered orifice. Still not yet fully defeated, Piers reached back even as the top of his head pulsated from the knock on the noggin against the bed frame. However, before he could throw an elbow against the chest of the Russian, it was taken by an iron-clad grip, unexpectedly forcing him to twist sideways even as the assault against his backside intensified. Grunting in frustration, his cheeks burned scarlet as Luka paused between his heavy masculine breath for laughter which exploded from the depths of his barrel chest, his hips not pausing for an instant as he did. In this moment, there was nothing greater than the feeling of primal superiority over the muscular figure beneath him; even as Piers mutely labored to find advantage from his position. "Still fighting agent? Always fighting, soldat." Holding his body contorted, the Russian made his point by leaning his weight forward, swiping his tongue over bowshaped, pouted tiers, that opened upon request. "Good boy." Lips sealed, sucking on the tongue that slipped in his mouth, muffling the curses that poured from the snipers mouth while their limbs untangled.

Toes curled in as Luka ground their hips together again, reveling in brushing his straining arousal against that hole he so desperately wanted to claim. The fight was exhilarating, but Luka claimed and calmed him with that kiss, threatening to bite him when Piers shifted his body, Russian hnds, sturdy and strong, guiding hands behind his back until Piers shoulders strained, moaning into that balmy cavern with another shift of hips. "Such a strong soldier you are printsessa. So use to being in control." That compact, firm body beneath his fingertips struggling faintly against each manipulation of his body, even as he slipped between being that perfect soldier, or giving himself willingly over to the man grinding their hips together until hazel eyes had fluttered shut and his mouth had gone dry, gasping for suffocating air. "Let go." Teeth worried into a craned neck, the pain earning a strangled moan, that filled the room, Piers hips pushing into those of his captor as he began to suckle on his throat, teeth drawing out a cry that turned ragged as that hardened length pushed up inside him in one slick movement.

* * *

**I can only say this. : )**


	7. Chapter 7

_'Last shot almost took my ear off! You want to watch it Nivans?'_

_'Shut up Rose, or I'll make certain the next one has your mouth written on it.'_

_'Speaking of putting something in your mouth Nivans. Bolted out of the bar so fast last night I never got my-_

A shot rang out, the signature boom of the rifle that Piers had taken for his primary despite S.O.U. protocols, or B.S.A.A. precautions, the bullet heat kissing the the side of Marco's face. Peeling the skull of the creature behind his back int to a dozen shattered pieces of skull, brain matter following in a splatter pattern that coated the explosives expert's back. There was quiet on the line again for several seconds, the popping of distant gunfire like popcorn in the microwave. Close calls were sobering in the B.S.A.A., particularly ones with such a warrant of death as their sniper's rifle felling unseen enemies. Raising a hand to his ear, Piers ever took his eyes from the scope, he eyed the would be dead man who continued on through the pack of creatures that had been released on border of Mexican soil. "I've got your six Rose." Reassurance of his confidence was enough to make the snarky bastard take a breath, Piers giving a brief nod to himself for their continued accomplishments. Lying prone with his left leg pulled up beneath him to prop weight, he loaded another round from the rigs on his thighs, feeding it into the click and snap of that beloved creature in his hands that the world had seen fit to call his wife. The line was clear for another long while, that was without the chatter from Airhart about the price of cattle in this day and age. Apparently he wanted to take up farming if he managed to finish his stint in the Special Operations Unit.

_'What about you captain? What's the plan?'_

_'The cap'ain is a lifer Rose, you know tha.'_

_'Nivans?'_

_'Dude, are you brain dead? I think you are the only one in this unit that thinks about that shit. As though any of us really has the patience for civilian life. Too much fun taken these things out. On top of that are you trying to retire the B.S.A.A. two best reasons for joining up man? Captain has the reputation, and if that doesn't do it for the new recruits, just ask Macauley for his reason for being here.'_

_'Well I-_

_'Shut up Finn. Even Nivans knows you spend all your time staring at his ass. Or are you looking for him to fill yours?'_

_'Would you all shut up already. We've got three- One more hostile up ahead.'_ Piers took the shot, dropping it like just another sack of meat, a round severing the neck and taking the head with it, the corpse a myriad of disgusting decomposition. The shot merely accented the end to the final rush, the last surge ended as Chris' voice came over the com, calling them to lower their weapons. _'E.T.A. on meet up is thirty minutes. I want all of you to keep radio silence until then. No more of this shit until the job is over or its your heads. Nivans we'll see you up there in thirty.'_ Piers shook his head, flipping his scope shut for the first time in almost three hours, tugging his beloved with him back over the edge of the precipice with a chuckle at how short Chris was getting with Alpha team for their banter. It wasn't the first time. When they started their relationship, Chris wouldn't allow any of it, back when Piers was a rookie. It was all about getting the job done for their captain, something he admired. A small hum escaped his lips before hands on his hips jarred him from his thoughts, instinctually reacting with a flip of his body and swinging his opposed leg with him to kick, catching the side of his assailant, with an arm hugging round his well made leg. Force folded the joint and Luka chuckled, kneeling over the younger soldier and his inability to relax for even a hair's breadth of a second.

"Damn it Luka..."

"Heh... Did I frighten you printsessa?" The Russian chuckled seeing the wash of relief over smooth features and the playful punch to his shoulder, leaning over the body hugging the rifle between them; lips catching soft pouted ones, and pulling the leg around his waist. The blond's finger tips slid over the outside that muscled extremity, sliding it further along; catching rigs and gear without concern until he cupped slim hips in his hands. The rigid soldier under his broad frame was taut as always, but it didn't stop him form enjoying those bow shaped tiers as they parted at his will, greeting that humid mouth with a talented tongue that managed to steal all the complaints from Piers' lungs. Forcibly held in place, large hands held the sniper deftly in place, a hand winding between them to take a handful of what he'd spent far too much time over the last few days enjoying. It earned him those resilient gasps that he enjoyed forcing from the smaller man beneath him, peeling away the rifle along with his lips. "Remove these printsessa." Giving the rigs on Pier's waist a yank capable of lifting his hips clean off the ground Piers gasped from the sudden rush of color to his face over the assault, olive colored skin revealed as Luka stole away the scarf that always hid that last remaining bit of flesh from prying eyes, latching his lips to one of the twenty marks of teeth and suction that had left it's story. White enamel raked across skin, giving another jerk to that which had not yet been yielded, Piers' tenor gasps filling his senses and giving rise to the lust of determination, biting into muscle while wet muscle laved the tortured flesh, grinding their hips together. Disabling his pretty little sniper from fighting back against his own wanton lusts; one hand pulling into blond strands of hair; removed from their orderly position as a fist tightened at the scalp, stifling a moan as teeth ravaged all the more violently. The other hand was fighting orders to break down and remove what was keeping the Russian commander from using his body right then to take his prize. "Let me reward you agent. Perfection deserves recognition." The words had their desired affect, stroking a far to long ignored ego before losing patience, taking grip with both hands to the rigging at his waist and undoing them within seconds, tearing the fatigues apart at his waist, the button scattering somewhere and torn.

"Lucky we can't-"

His voice was cut off as two fingers, pale and slim pushed passed those pouted tiers, sweeping he inside of his mouth until he caught Piers' tongue with his fingers, a devilish smirk on the face of the man who nibbled teasingly at Piers' neck. "Of course we can not... no time for that now. I will take my time with you later agent... For _now_, work like that needs reward." Sucking on the flesh beneath his teeth, lips curled in a smile feeling Piers body react to his torment, suckling on the fingers in his mouth. "Good printsessa. Very good." Removing moist fingers from Piers' full lips, Luka placed a short lived kiss on his upper tiers, hand delving back to the fatigues he'd torn open.

"Not here Lucky. We're on mission. Yo... you can't..," Piers words were breathless, panting as fingertips slid between round cheeks, and his torturer chuckled darkly as the body under him arched up completely when he pushed them inside him. "We can't."

"Of course not." Always fighting this one. Even as fingers pumped inside him and legs parted further for the Russian, he was still verbally fighting their actions. Piers. Ever the good boy, trying to hide his dark desires with that soldieresque behavior. The rifle in his hands clattered to the side, fingers tightening in strands of thin platinum hair. He hadn't taken everything he wanted from him yet though. Their game of cat and mouse wasn't won by a long shot. He knew the obstacle that lay in his way, and when the B.S.A.A., S.O.U. captain discovered that his prefect little prize was being stolen from him, no doubt there would be a war. He was at a disadvantage, and in this situation it would never appear so: tawny haired perfectionist making throaty panting to each thrust of his fingers. However, he was far from winning. This was the first time he'd had him alone during a mission, and if he could, he would make damn sure every second of every day was spent with the beautiful submissive being trained to think of his as captain. Christopher Redfield was not a giving man and neither were the type to share. Once the drunk woke from his stupor, and finally took a look at what was happening from under his own nose, he would no doubt be furious. Anyone with the privilege to touch the sculpted, compact frame in his hands would fight to keep him. He had enough trouble getting lust to override 'duty' with this younger man, but if asked to chose between the two at this point the clear front runner was the man he continued to return to. Luka wouldn't have it. He wouldn't share with Chris, and the only way to ensure it wouldn't happen was giving Piers every little thing he needed and wanted. The other night after the bar it had been to feel wanted. Now, it was the overwhelming conflict between being good boy, and being Luka's pretty whore. No reason he couldn't make the soldier into both.

Piers wasn't some girly girl who wanted to make love. He was a perfectly competent soldier, use to earning what he wanted and who had the desire to always please. Chris was lucky that way. Piers was always seeking to please his captain. So he would make him crave the things he never had. Twist him every which way until Chris had absolutely no shot in the dark at all. Leaning in, he whispered in Piers' ear, cooing at him as tenor eyes snapped shut in response to the twist of fingers inside him, stretching his body around him. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, though he wouldn't need either soon enough. Piers hid it well, but he liked it rough and after the other night and day spent in his apartment forcing him over every surface in that apartment, it was clear that he liked Luka's way of manipulating him as well. "You want me printsessa? Speak." The first step had always been getting Piers to admit to what he wanted, and who he wanted. Such a silent lover. The night he'd taken him the first time had been a fight, a naturally learned response to a sniper under duress was to be quiet, but Luka wanted him to say it, so he could hear it wih his own ears that he was the one that Piers wanted. The words trapped in the confines of strained, attacked muscles tripped behind teeth when Piers purred at the brush of calloused pads over that place inside him being teased until his entire body was rigid from the restraint he demanded of his body. Lips caressed Piers' lower tier, biting and giving a tug that made him whimper, breath hitching as every action ceased ice blue eyes capturing hazel that pleaded silently. "Tell me what you want."

"I... I.."

_'Nivans, switch to private channel four.'_

"Shit." That was all it took, Piers giving one strong shove with his right arm with enough force to throw the older captain off him, pulling away and righting his rigs that were so askew. Luka sneered, hearing the gruff sound of deeper baritone in his own ear on the request for the sniper, ice cold eyes narrowing that could cause Hell to freeze over. "Yes captain?" Piers jumped for that man. Luka grit his teeth, branished strength heaving himself from the ground while seeing those full lips curl for the sound of their captain's voice, beads of sweat tumbling down his temple while hands hurriedly set to getting himself brushed off.

_'Sound out of breath soldier. Catch you at a bad time?'_ Piers' face flushed, gasping in air, as he reached for his rifle, deft fingers catching his own in a quick display of complete dominance. Luka's longer limbs gave him superiority in close quarter combat, but they were closer to one another, with Chris purring in his sniper's ear while wrists were jerked over his head. Letting sturdy hold on slim wrists work as an anchor to throw weight, twisting in his grip so Pier's back was to Luka's chest, curling forward, and pitching the body clean over the top of him when his own hands locked with hose hold his wrists. 'When we get back I'll make sure you're really out of breath.' Chris chuckled over the line, hearing the sharp intake of breath, even without knowing the reason why. Piers' turned three shades of red at Chris' words, a shade darker for each sin. For cheating on Chris with Luka, his lust for Chris, and for letting the way Luka was manhandling combined with the crooning of his captain make his body refuse to defend like it should. _'You almost took off Rose's ear today Piers. You've got to be more careful than that. Report.'_ Throwing an elbow that was caught, Piers was shoved up against the oak that overhung them, a second shove, shoving him passed bracing hands until his torso was up against the trunk of the thing. Hurried hands dominated him, cramming fatigues down around his thighs, sturdy legs kicked apart. "Do not push me away printsessa, not for him. Let me," his words were bitten off, dropping to his knees behind the younger man fingers splayed across his backside and jerking down black boxer briefs with one move, "_Reward_ you."

Fingers preceded tongue, both causing the sniper breath to turn ragged, catching his palms on the trunk of the tree and then his forehead. Chris' voice was impatient over the wire for his report, bu Luka would have none of it, delving his tongue deeper inside him as fingers wound him into knots. Time stood still, Chris screaming in his ear but all he could hear was the blood rushing through his head and his heart beat thundering in his chest. "Luka... I.." The tongue receded from inside teasing the rim of his muscle.

"Answer him sniper. Let him hear your moans."


	8. Chapter 8

Stupid man. As though it wasn't fucking clear what had happened? It wasn't as though they were an exclusive couple. Chris hadn't made any particular stipulation to what defined the perimeters of their relationship, but then he didn't need to. Piers Nivans was Assistant Team Leader to Alpha team, that made him owned. Since the day he'd joined in his early twenties, it was clear who it was that the tawny haired sniper belonged to even before he'd made him partner. As a rule of thumb, youthful sharpened orbs never turned away from their captain, nor did he make an effort to get to know or care for any one person in Alpha but him. As callous as it was to say, Alpha Team was the hardest unit to get into, with a reputation of coming home light after every mission by at least one casualty, sometimes more. It didn't matter how good Chris was, or how sharp Piers was, someone would do something stupid. Meaning no one else on that team mattered. Piers had been his little rookie, another in the long line of people that wound up dead, so getting involved on either of their sides wasn't at all a priority on their front. It wasn't as though he'd hand picked the sniper either. Their relationship had merely begun as a soldier under his ranking officer, but after so many missions of everyone dying but the two of them, it couldn't be helped to look at the sniper with more intention than previously. They got closer, got to know one another, and their quirks. And they did so without words. Captain Commie needed to grill someone to get information from them; Piers knew Chris without a single word. In fact, neither needed to speak. Everything had been... right. So yeah, Chris knew exactly when Piers' cocksure disregard for the communist thief had changed from duty into something more twisted, even if they thought they were being discreet. And no, Chris didn't care.. not at first.

It wasn't shocking. Piers was drawn to strong people. The first time Chris had met him that had become clear. All those missions they'd gone on and the resentment the rookie sniper showed for his team mates; it didn't take a genius. Piers didn't get along with people, and didn't play nice with others, that was unless the captain was speaking. If Captain Redfield opened his mouth, that boy was at attention with his eyes glued on him and his fingers clutching his rifle so hard Chris questioned if the young man was either in shock or awe-struck. It was only after the third time or so when the captain took advantage of it and stood beside him, could he see the hero-worship in the eyes as he chewed the inside of that full, bow-shaped bottom tier. Those gorgeous lips. He hadn't failed to notice them or how they formed a perfect 'O' just meant for him to plunder. Or how whenever they stood together, his sniper would pop his hip and cup it with that diligent hand in that smarmy way he had as though egging for attention. The rhythmic way he'd stand and move. All the more amusing because in the presence of his captain, the boy couldn't move he was paralyzed once his captain's attention was on him. Missions were another story. He was impressive, sharp, all the things Chris wanted in a partner. So hell yes he'd taken advantage. Boy was fucking beautiful. Built like the perfect soldier, with loyalty only to his captain. The sure shot way of pinning every enemy from miles away. It wasn't a mistake getting him the anti-material rifle he had. No that was no mistake. After that there was no one who came between them and after the first mission, when Piers' had nailed that sweet shot that saved Chris' life?

Once they'd met up again, and the chips were down, Chris couldn't help himself. Yeah it wasn't right for a captain to take advantage that way, but there was nothing stopping him from shoving Piers into an old broken down building and forcing him to his knees. Though force would have implied that the kid didn't willingly drop when the captain shoved his palms down on those lithe shoulders; tear open his utility belt, fatigues, and shove aside the remaining layers of undergarments to free his long aching cock. And Piers wasn't some sweet little thing with reserves about what he was doing. He worshiped Chris, parted those pouted lips and swallowed every inch of him into that tightly heated throat, hidden behind the scarf he wore. That had brought him to the realization he'd had to have that always hidden flesh. Enough saliva greasing up his cock; he'd pulled the kid to his feet still coughing, and bent him over the nearest object so he could bury himself inside, balls deep in the kid and popped his cherry. He'd jerked on that scarf enough to choke his sniper but it served its purpose to shut him up while he fucked him until keening died down from the cries of agony from Chris' huge cock. That mesh was a great leash for fucking his boy until he'd freed it and thrown it aside, latching lips and teeth to the back of his neck while thrusting in and out of that sinfully tempting body. 'Shut up soldier.' He remembered the commands. Hearing the sweet sounds of Piers stifling every moan and gasp, as Chris ravaged him until he sated himself and let a huge load fill the inside of the boy's body and leak down his thighs. What's more, the kid jerked up his fatigues and passed him the sultry beaten smile when told to get back to the mission; as though nothing had just happened between them; gripping his rifle and taking it in stride. After that display, it had to happen again. And happen again, and again and again. Whenever they were alone together. Hell he didn't have to be alone with him. Piers was his. Stand beside him and the sexual tension oozed between them with so much ease all that his captain had to do was speak a command and it made his sniper weak in the knees. He could have him whenever, and where he wanted.

Stupid Russian. He really though that a couple of one night stands was really going to bother Chris. No... what bothered him, was that hitch in his sniper's voice the other day when Luka brushed his hand over the small of his back. The report he made with all the nuances of the time he'd made Piers call in their report once before, to Headquarter's while Chris was fucking him so hard he couldn't breath. Impressive control. He'd taught Piers everything he knew, and to think that Chris didn't know when someone was fucking around with what belonged to him? That was what bothered him. What bothered him more? When Piers got comfortable enough with the russian that it made his skin dace like only Chris could do. As though he didn't know the softer undertones that hid in that tenor sweet voice while he was being taken advantage of. Luka was a fool. That beautiful piece of work he was pawing like a fifth grade girl had an owner, one that had done all the little things before him. The only reason Piers let it happen was because of the fight. Yeah he'd been drinking a lot lately, but his partner would too if he lost basically everything to a megalomaniac asshole in South Africa. They fought, and blondie reminded Piers of the way Chris use to touch him. Russian was too stupid to think all those little moves he pulled; throwing him up against everything and anything, was a first for Piers. He'd done way more with that pretty boy than Luka could ever think of trying. Fucking was one thing though. Piers had needs, hell so did Chris. And Chris was bi. Piers knew that. They'd slept around before... No. That's what bugged him. Chris had slept around before. Piers didn't. Wouldn't. Perfect little soldier belonged to him, and no one else. No one else was good enough for Piers. He was devoted.

That was until Luka. Tall, blond, and exotic, with just the right amount of damage. The only man he'd ever seen chase after Piers so desperately. Like Piers was some kind of gem. He's a fucking soldier, not a princess. Fuck if the Russian hadn't chased him so hard, Piers would likely have thrown a grenade at the guy by now and it would be done. But the communist moron set the tempo. He had Piers leading and that was his downfall. Piers didn't lead. He followed. He wasn't a soldier for no reason at all. He let Piers pick to fight. When Chris was with Piers, there was no fight. They would from time to time go at it like pitbulls, simply because the testosterone between them was akin to a Chinese wall. But Chris beat Piers to the ground without restraint. He didn't go tit for tat counters with someone he'd trained the moves to. He dominated him and overpowered him with the bulging muscles he graced, and twisted that lithe body in his hands until Piers couldn't move accept to beg him to take him. So it came down to that. Luka was playing a being a pussyfooted version of himself, only he was looking to take something he could never have. That being said, it made this all the more enjoyable.

"Rose go in from the right flank, Airhart, you take the left, take the rookie with you, so he doesn't get lost." Handing out orders to his men, one at a time, with that all commanding tone as they looked on over the diagrams that were laid out before them by Rose's data holos. "Commie, you take point. Map out the area, give your team back home something to laugh about later on." Both insult and compliment, not lost on the blond who was watching the body language between the captain and his partner with vicious intent. Chris was leaned just the slightest with hulking shoulders over Piers' left shoulder, no full contact whatsoever, but enough that his breath was on the nape of the sniper's neck, hidden just by the mesh fabric that laid camouflage to a litany of marks. Ones Chris' knew were there, and made a point of eying for Luka to watch as his men mapped their routes. "Soldier, with me." The words sparked fire behind hazel eyes, replied by with just a brief nod, jaw clenched tight as Chris continued details. Stupid commie bastard. It was too amusing watching those icy eyes narrow and chase the tremors of goosebumps that ran up ferociously up Piers' only showing forearm flesh the longer they stood side by side. Or the forceful intent that filled Chris' voice, demanding and commanding so completely. Luka was a captain, he should have known how to do this, he just didn't know it was what Piers liked. And now he did. The barest few inches were left between them while calling off man after man to depart, intentionally growling in the sniper's ear just behind him. Their bodies were less than a foot apart, with Piers' rifle hugged across his chest to clutch to something at every rumbled command, nothing on his face apparent except from what Chris had learned to read. Piers always tried to hide himself behind that stoic demeanor, but in fact he over compensated, and got the clenched jaw, tight swallow. It was all about the body language that was taut and visibly tense.

Intentionally making his partner face forward so he couldn't see his captain, Chris took a minute step back, loud enough to be heard. It was part of that tact; playing cat and mouse. Except the mouse was being watched by every member of their team so he couldn't react, just stand at attention, just like his captain wanted. "Call in your kills, make sure each one is accounted for." He intentionally called Piers soldier, his posture rigid. That particular name was one that he had learned sent electric straight through Piers' nerves to his groin, every time. Luka wouldn't have gotten his attention with a sign in bold print. The sniper couldn't do anything but hold his breath. In a way he should have thanked Luka, for making this all the more enjoyable to torment Piers; and he did, saluting him half-assed from behind the soldier before nodding him off, sarcastic smile in place. To his credit Luka said and did nothing, apart from nod. It was that 'get lost expression,' while they all turned on their coms to the right settings and headed out. There was a reason he let Luka lead the team into this mission. First being it wasn't that hard, just routine shit that H.Q. got off on sending them on. That and it gave him time to be alone discipline that tawny haired adolescent.

"Know why I let Rusky take the team today?" Chris watched Piers' roll his shoulders just the slightest, canting his head to the side to see the captain's mahogany eyes raking over his back. It had the desired effect, swallowing the lump in his throat and turning to face forward with the wordless command. That body was dancing under his eyes without ever moving, the tone putting tremors over those sure hands. "I'm generous That's why. Besides, its come to my attention solider, that you've been lax in your judgement lately. You need more... guidance from your captain..., don't you?"

"I... No captain, I-

"Shut up." His voice was deathly low, sending the desired tremor Piers, watching the sucked in pinch of those smooth cheeks. He did owe Luka. Sometimes, he forgot how sexy his sniper was. How sweet the contours of his body felt as he completely dominated him. "When I want you to talk I'll goddamn tell you soldier. If I wanted your opinion, I'd fucking ask for it. You think I'm blind? That I wouldn't notice? You think I'd be jealous of that communist? Trust me soldier, I'm not." He snarled in Piers' ear, admiring how fingers took a tighter grip on the trigger guard of his rifle, eyes threatening to wince shut at the forceful tone. "What is there to be jealous of? That he has to force you to fuck him. I own you soldier. I don't need to pussy foot with you, boy." Tightly pursed lips parted with a sharp intake of breath, Chris watching how hard it was for Piers to stay facing forward. His thigh gave that half tremor from the struggle of staying still the closer Chris got, the inches he had started to close. "You think I don't goddamn know what he's been doing?" Rough calloused palms moved deliberately, never touching that olive tone flesh that he wanted to tear into. Instead he found mesh fabric at his neck, hearing the grimace from his partner as it was cleaved from his throat, displaying the array of marks, as the fabric was stuffed into one of Piers' hands, hanging dishonorably lopsided between his fingers, as hazel orbs flicked everywhere and anywhere to hid his shame.

Chris circled like a grizzled lion, stalking round him with shoulders rotating in outrage at the indignation of the complete ruin on his partner's neck. He'd seen the hickey on the back of his throat plain and clear, but teeth scrapping, mouth marks, deep purpled bruising showed everywhere, and the longer he paced his pray the longer he could see every detail of motley flesh. Temper surged as knitting caused a crease between thicker brows, and a snarled lip curled up to reveal sharp white teeth, stopping behind Piers. The visible tremor was assuring, and he gulp as he eyed marred flesh, licking his lip. "You want this soldier? Wasn't getting enough attention from your captain? You want him? Or is it just another cheap substitute because you can't ever get enough of me?" There was no pause between questions, just hot breath on his neck. "You need a goddamn lesson in judgement soldier. Lesson one..." Able hands grappled the rifle from his hand and threw it without care to the ground, joining the disregarded shotgun that belonged to pointman. Rogue color filtered to smooth cheeks at the jarring action, head snapping to gaze at the weapon with a vehement growl on the tip of his tongue; cut off by a huge mitt wrapping around his throat and squeezing he noise out, body slammed with tremendous force into the closest wall. Feet dangling, the other hand snapped out, gripping the fabric between Piers' tone legs, hearing the sweet sound of that euphoric cry. "Who's your daddy?"

Sweat beads negotiated a path from tawny hairline, down Piers' face, features grimacing in pleasure as full lips fell agape, unable to his the yelp that escaped his throat when his entire body contracted. Red dashed its mark across olive skin, making those smooth cheeks all the more dusky as Chris ground his palm against his length, digging in his point as fluids clung to his inner legs, slowly lowered at the softer whimper; tactical gear and flak jacket clinging to the wall as he scrapped down it to his feet. Poised at his throat, the hand that held him up slid beside Piers' visage, hazy eyes locked on the bulging muscle of his captain's forearm, down he length of it as his bicep twitched. "Feel that soldier? You want to be weak?... I'll show you weak." The thick musky scent of Chris filled Piers' nostrils as teeth sank into his throat, rough lips parting to worry and gnaw tender muscles; thready moans on the fringes of openly moaning until blood was draw and it turned to a hiss of pain, scruff rubbing flesh red and he continued to tear at Piers' throat, feeling the gentle struggle before more of a jerk. One swift hand found a hunched over shoulder, gripping its mound of taut sinew, and the other the forearm that protruded on contact. A little pressure and teeth relinquished as Piers cried out, a backhanded drawn fist flexing his huge arm before silencing the sniper on contact, breaking the skin at his lip and knocking his head to the side. "Shut it soldier. I don't want to hear it. None of that whimpering bullshit. Shut your fucking mouth a take it." Chris was a hulk, pecs taut from having reached across his body to strike the soldier who recovered with ease. That was how Chris liked it, rough, and that was how Piers liked him. Thin lips forcing a passionate kiss to the broken flesh at that swelling lip, biting it once before two huge hands gripped lean shoulders and spun him, face hitting the wall as on hand slammed between shoulder blades to pin that body to the wall, the other gripping a handful of that tight ass. "You're already a fucking mess. All it takes me me to touch you once. Well time to relearn lesson two boy."

Trim legs, firm and supple in his hand as Chris pushed down from that cheek in his hand getting a good feel over Piers' inner thigh, familiar with the smothered moan, so eager for more contact the more his rough pads gripped, harder and harder along that inner thigh until he was leaving bruises. Piers still riding the orgasmic high of Chris' attention. Poor stupid communist brat. Thought he could win this war? There wasn't eve a battle to be had. He'd switched on his com and had Luka's on the same channel long before the mission, just so he could listen in on all those sweet urgent sounds for more. That bastard couldn't say shit and he knew it. There was nothing but to listen as Chris took everything Luka wanted. "Undo your fatigues. Now." The sound of fingers struggling instantly with clips and rigs of his standard gear, custom to a fault filtered between ragged breathes, stumbling every time Chris would give a squeeze to his inner thigh, until finally their position at his hips were compromised. The sudden slack fabric from the loosened belt, came with a forceful kick, spreading Piers' legs further apart, gripping synthetic fiber in one hand and jerking it so tight it made that fetter groan eke by with a hiss, gripping the other strap used to tighten his rigs at his right and cinching the grey gear straining to dig into flesh, the stinging that bloomed causing water at the corners of observant eyes that snapped shut at the gesture. Giving a slap to the round globe that he'd been coveting, Chris leaned forward using his colossal chest to pin the younger man in place, undoing his own restrictive gear. "Whenever I want, and where ever I goddamn say." Tactical pants dropped free around Chris' knees, hands delving to the front of that firm slender body and shoving them inside open fatigues, one hand weaving its fingers in a suffocating grip around Piers' cock, the other shoving fabric away and down to be caught by rigging to imprison the sniper, grinning devilishly at the fluids that coated his fingers. "You really did cum for me when I grabbed you. Missed me, didn't you solder?" Freed fabric bore flesh against flesh, Chris' hefty girth springing free from boxerbriefs; rubbing against that full tight ass, betwixt his cheeks. One hand raised in front of the sniper's mouth, hips steadily gyrating to feel the slide of warm flesh pushing; seeking the ring of tight muscle he wanted to fuck bloody, and how it twitched when his cock nudged at his entrance. "Tell me you want it, soldier."

"I want you! Captain please."

Chris grinned ear to ear. He hoped Luka heard that. How fast Piers was to pipe up and beg with that ragged tortured voice when Chris told him to, holding his palm out. "Spit." Lips pursed, saliva spat in the palm of Chris' hand. Fingers briefly visiting those sweet full lips before urgency to have him took over. Hips pushed back away from contact just briefly, hand pumping over his cock watching Piers pop his ass for him, looking back over his shoulder while the captain continued to beat himself off drinking in the sight. Ponderous shoulders rolled, as his loins tightened, hand flying with ever more fervor, Piers burying his face in the crook of his elbow for support only to have it jerked back so his neck was craned; grunting at the snap of anger his joint made, eyes taking in the sky as a furious pace continued, Chris' voice hitched. "Say it again baby." That was a true first. Calling Piers by that pet name like they were in a relationship more than sex. But they were, Piers belonged to him, about time the stubborn soldier knew it. "Say it again or I'm not giving you shit."

"No, captain, please. Chris, please don't wait, just take me. Fuck I'm a soldier, I can take it. I don't care if it hurts, I need it to hurt."

Chris didn't hesitate, every action and move was deliberate and sharp. "Good boy." Chris growled, biting the flesh of tan skin and ripping at it, marking everything Luka had put on him as he guided himself with one hand to that tight ring of muscle, rubbing his cock against Piers' entrance, up and down, and feeling the twitch of anticipation from that sweet orifice. "Suck it up soldier." Heat enveloped his entire body as Chris' thick, spit greased cock, jabbed up inside the young sniper. Fingers released his base as his cock head delved deeper, pinning youthful hips against the wall by shoving his palm in the small of his back, burying himself to the hilt in one heavy thrust. "Fuck Piers, your so tight..." It was a rule when captain and A.T.L. were graphic that they didn't speak. Chris would talk, but Piers' tenor voice was muffled into an entirely too audible noise for Luka to hear, a yelp of ecstasy and pain all in one. The russia could eat his heart out. Let him hear how huge Chris was, and just who's whore Piers' really was, grinding and fucking him without restraint into the wall. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt having Piers stifling his moans and pushing back for more at every thrust, meeting his intensity until it was just grunting and the sound of flesh slapping flesh. Sinking his cock in him with erratic pace, Chris growled in Piers' ear, biting down on his neck again to mark him and claim the sniper as his until he felt Piers body tighten around his cock and that sweet tight orifice hug him to him, crying out silently. "Fucking eager aren't you. Its been too long, you can't even hold back." Chris grinned, malicious as he jerked out of that hot cavity that clung to him. "Get on your knees and finish the job."

* * *

**Luka I apologize!  
**


	9. Chapter 9

_'Personnel Transfer Request_

_Special Agent Piers Nivans,_

_Bioterrorism Security Assessment Aliiance's United States of America branch, Special Operations Unit; transferred under order of Captain Luka Gvorik, Russia's own. With special permission granted from Head Quarter's General...'_

Luka tapped the pen on his desk yet again, staring at the words written and how they played out against and again. He had transferred three agents from Delta, and another thirteen from the rookie bull pen that was offered for him. It had all started out as a rouse. No captain within the B.S.A.A. would willingly offer up their agents to the likes of the Russian S.O.U. Headquarters signed off on the operation. Bring in an intelligence officer to look into those who would make for candidates that were possible for transfer. Those agents would receive transfer. His position in Alpha was to appease the men in Russia, that they were acquiring proper intelligence, and now here it was. Weeks of work at this hidden agenda, and here he was staring at a transfer sheet he had never envisioned filling out. Damn that sniper. It had started as a rouse. Get confidence from someone who knew the ranks, who understood the men, which he had in the first considered to have been their 'heroic' captain Chris Redfield. It had turned all wrong when he met Piers. It wasn't suppose to be someone he could have fallen for. Using Piers to get information wasn't easy either. He had failed in that department because that foolish sniper was so damnably perfect. Everything he needed or wanted, and perfectly capable of being a captain in the Russian S.O.U. If he could have convinced him otherwise... And the damn mission. Why did Piers have to be so incredibly intoxicating. A tiger, hidden and caged within the confines of his captain's folds. It shouldn't have happened, but static sparked between those eyes. The pen scratched, thinking on the last few weeks and the unimpeded progress he'd made with the sniper, just on the verge of bringing it to him that he could have joined him in Russia, and then the mission. It left an ink bled mark on the place of the name he was yet to insert. It didn't matter who's name was inserted as the consigning officer, if Piers wouldn't sign off on the transfer himself; and his printsessa would no sooner jot his name on a transfer consignment, than he would leave his precious Captain Redfield.

The tone of his voice was he was pleading for his captain, still rang sour within that twisted mind, prying away each second for all the facts. His voice was so desperate for the man who in his darkest thoughts could only be considered a leech on society. Captain Christopher Redfield was no captain, he allowed his sniper to maintain control of his team while he drank himself into oblivion. And because of a long lost title of hero, he waved to over the heads of those who loved them in a sick way that kept Luka at an arms length with the younger man. There was no winning or losing, but then that was where Chris had failed this game. He treated this like a game, as though Piers was a toy to be won over by the highest bidder. That was where he was wrong. Thin pale lips tugged upward into a smile, filling out the remains of the document required before filing it away in his desk, in this cubicle they called fitting of a captain. It was for guests, but it would work. He wasn't leaving here without it signed. Log limbs straightened, cracking in several places where the cartilage in some joints failed to support him well enough anymore, but without complaint. Crossing the silence of B.S.A.A.'s secretarial honey comb of workers, Luka crossed the room, weaving through the labyrinth of all small boxes hat he could see over with ease, and their occupants typing away like worker bees. The click clack of fingers driving a hard bargain on the keyboards under their manicured finger nails, whilst he pushed himself into the silence of the men's room. After the mission, days ago, Luka had seen fit to push himself away from Alpha team, and finish his duties as delegate to the Russian S.O.U. program. With the remaining files submitted, all apart from the sniper, that made him the final priority before being sent back. The trickle of systematic faucets and the wetness as he rinsed his hands in the water aided to think. The cold made it easier on the brain. Made it strain harder.

"Headed to the captain's office? He's not in right now." Luka's ear pricked at the whiny nasal congestion of the league of bees queen. Gladius. The woman who had given him an unintellectual our of the offices when he had first brought himself here to get his work done. However there was only one captain in this section of the building that was never in. Attempting to hide away a smirk, brown absorbent towels sucked up the remaining moisture form his hands, deposited into the bin before he shoved back on the door, using the back of broad shoulders to shove. Luka couldn't help the quiet smirk, watching the sniper that huffed with paperwork lodged under his bicep. Standing in that manner where he could push out his hip, impatiently flashing his tags at gigantic bug eyed glasses, that squint. They all knew Piers, but it didn't stop Gladius from being as unproductive as possible making the sniper undergo her inspection. "How are the rookies doing this afternoon agent?"

"Give me the key."

Eighty-five year old creaking bones took forever to retrieve, bungling around in the drawer for the key to Chris' office. So like Piers to not make copies of people's keys. He could have, he was the A.T.L. He could have gotten away with that, and the pain of dealing with why people questioned who he was every time he came in to the office, but he didn't. He did everything by the books. It didn't stop half the office of women to stop their typing and peek over the top of their cubicles to admire him. Sweat soaked, and still huffing from the work in 92 degrees outside, suddenly met with the 72 indoors. Pouted lips bowed out at the corner as he nudged his tongue against the nook and swept a drop of sweat from the corner of his mouth, tapping a heel as he waited. "Printsessa, a sight for sore eyes. I had not expected you." His voice drew Piers' attention, but unlike the average, unobservant idiot, just in the manner that Piers had already noted his presence and gave a nod without meeting his eyes, still watching Gladius and her fumbling about. 'In here somewhere.' "You have been giving close quarter combat instruction have you?" A thin lipped smirked tugged into place when that brought hazel eyes up from the desk, shifting the lithe body under his gaze for a moment, question written there. "Your forearms." Glancing down, the younger man managed a chortle at icy blue's observation of his damaged arms, sweat slick and and tan with a fair bit of fresh bruising starting to pink the flesh. "I never took the great sniper to be an errand boy."

"The captain was called out by the brass."

Whatever the reason, it didn't hide the obvious annoyance at being called out as the captain's errand boy. Though, they hadn't spoken in days. Perhaps the sniper was sour that Luka had taken the last few to observe rather than get in the way of their beloved Alpha team. Whatever the case, his irked expression said it all, folding the paperwork in his arms over to the other side when Gladius came up with the key, victorious and still flapping her gab when the sniper swiped the key and walked away, the pace most people would be hard pressed to follow..., if Piers wasn't 5'11 and sporting legs that were four inches shorter than the Russian's. In the blond's case it was far easier to catch up to the sniper without any trouble, ignoring how the room of women followed them both with their dreamy eyes, straight from some Japanese manga, like Sailor Moon. The humidity outside, could have rivaled the steam breaths of those behind them. Luka ignored them, noting Piers' little quirks to tip his chin down and head to the side by just millimeters when he was listening to someone behind him, or how his jaw flexed with the added annoyance of of a thousand oak doors and white walls that led to Chris' office. Empty office. "Tell me Printsessa, how long will you continue to play at avoiding me?"

"Who says I'm avoiding you, Lucky?"

That nickname... Endearing at first, it had come to grate on his very last nerve, like pins being thrust into the spinal cortex and twist to inflict pain of recognition that Piers considered Luka to be lucky to have ever spent time with him. "Do not call me that." Luka's teeth grit, feeling the white enamel wear from the way it ground against each other in a personal attempt not to lash out. "I've not seen you for days, agent. One would qualify that as avoidance." More doors shoved through, stopping when Piers swiped his clearance card, a tiny beep granting access into the inner offices. Luka followed, not surprised that Piers didn't bother holding the door and instead moved on without him. Such a volatile young man, always business and no play. That was unless someone was forcing him into it. There was a great difference between what Chris Redfield had done with Piers on that mission, and what Luka did for him. Piers was too special to treat like a whore, but it was clearly made obvious that his own approach was rebuffed for a stronger hand. If that was what it took, than Luka had no trouble weaving his long strong fingers into those bangs, in their ever perfect flip, and giving him a bit of what he desired. That was... after he had made his point. And with Piers currently blazing a few feet ahead of him and with that musical stride, that would be more important than he had considered. Beautiful tiger, always on the prowl. "Tell me, Printsessa. What is it that has made you so frustrated with me? Have I not treated you like the exotic creature you are?"

"I'm _not_ frustrated."

"I am beg to differ. The way you have shortened your 'T's, say that you hold tension in your neck. Agent."

"What does it matter if I'm frustrated? I'm a soldier, Luka, not a child."

"You matter. Is it so foreign to you agent Nivans, that I care about your well being? That bothers you?"

"I'm a trained killer, and you want to know why the fuck I'm frustrated, after spending the day..., you know what, it doesn't matter. Yes, it bothers me!" Piers stride sped; casting a glower over his shoulder toward that sharp angular features that examined his body language so intently. It was clear though, and even if the sniper hadn't shown his own amount of caring in those icy blues, he at least saw Piers. That disconcerted look, where the younger man questioned his entire being, while taking in the way his drafting partner followed. Defeat played in the sniper's voice when it resumed, showing the kind of resilience Piers always carried, breakdown to hint at some of he raw emotion that he knew lingered there. "I don't understand you."

"Yes, you do."

"No Luka, I don't! Why do you do this to yourself? You know I'm not..., Look, I belong with Alpha team. I'm not leaving it, no matter how I feel about this. About you."

Cool and collected as ever, hearing it made the Russian smile, not frown. No one ever said that, who hadn't thought about leaving. Meaning he already had won that part of the battle, and wasn't fool enough to pretend Piers didn't know what his ultimate goal was. Men like the sniper didn't think about things that weren't worth considering, it wasted time and energy that might be used for something better, so there was plenty of reason to think about it, and more of a reason to stay calm. "You belong with someone to treat you like the perfect soldier you are, Piers."

Thudding against his back, Piers flopping backward with a flex of taut forearms against his chest, paperwork crunched under their strength. He leaned like a woman, though Luka would never tell him so. Particularly the way his hips always nudged back against the wall whilst his one heel shoved backward on the wall with them, bracing his weight like his rifle arm, on his right foot. "Why are you here Lucky?" Such a strange mix his beautiful sniper, violent and sultry all in one. It was no wonder the captain never wanted to give him up. If Piers was his, he certainly never would have given Chris the opportunity to rival that. His foolish mistake, that just made it easier to make his own move. A move closer to Piers in a way that closed their gap and left the sniper's knee nudged firmly against his own inner thigh, drawing a smirk and pleasing ice blue eyes. At least it was clear that the younger man hadn't lost his will to play the game. That much was clear in those bedroom eyes. That didn't stop him from holding a thousand yards between them with his fierce hatred of being toyed with. Plunging passed his personal space, Luka thrust a calloused palm against the wall, just to the side of Piers face. It didn't result as he pleased, slick fingers winding with an access key in it before it was slid through the lock, a foot thrust out and catching Luka as gravity pulled him forward and over the limb, stumbling into the office. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lucky. Did my foot kick your ass?" Just as he was saying it, a dexterous limb snapped out and collided with Luka's backside, sending him forward into the desk, gripping the edge of Chris' desk with his palms. Crafty little monster. "I haven't got the time to deal with your attention issues, Gvorik. I need to send these in, and you need to get the Hell out of the captain's office." Ever the drill Sergeant.

"You seem to spend enough time inside of captain's office."

"Keep pushing it, Luck-

A flurry of movement parried by brilliantly learned close quarter combat, and the paperwork so coveted was pinned beneath the planes of Piers' chest, a arm wrenched behind his back and bent over at the waist with the desk flush beneath him. Luka's grip tightened every few seconds, stilling the jerking battle by laying his own weight over that of the lean sniper. "I am not lucky, soldier. I fought to earn you. I bled for it. You will never call me by that..., insult, again." Slim shoulders pegged to the desk top, roughly tossing the weight that was easily counter-balanced against, solidifying his position as Luka's hot breath skated over Piers' cheek, lips touching the soft lobe of his ear as he leaned forward to push a prolonged kiss to sweat slick flesh of the sniper's temple. Sickly sweet as tresses of blond fell foward against Piers' cheek. Listening to constrained huffs of adrenaline pumped breaths. "Every time I get close to you, my printsessa. You pull away," thick accent made it harder to understand, but the thick tongued manner of Russian speech made their listener gulp down his adam's apple. "What must I do? What must I say? We both know you care for me, agent. Why do you fight so?" Clenched jaw was the little give away, the sign that the sniper was hearing and taking it all in, even as that limber right leg worked to slip and tangle with his own; letting him fight for position. "Is it because the captain?" Back rigid, the younger man winced, "I understand. You are forgetting though, my dear tiger." Hazel eyes flicked from the hard wood surface beneath, weight shifted off his back to allow Piers' more room to move, even in the confines of those large hands grasping handfuls of slim hips, grinding them together. "I am captain, and that's what you call me," Fatigues jerked down, tearing the waistline as Luka thrust them back over those round cheeks, griping a handful of each one. "While I take you on his desk." The dead give away, the lack of resistance as bare ass, touched against cool pale skin. "Good boy."

If Piers needed Luka to be hard with him, forthright and damaging in order to get his attention, then he would give him his soul, to get his sniper back. His. There was nothing that belonged to Chris anymore; not those piercing eyes, tan flesh, or strong, perfectly wrought muscles that his cool, pale fingers traced and scratched. That hopeless drunk could hope and pray that he would ever have a chance. That washed up captain with an agenda, who merely wanted Piers physically, would never touch him again. He was nothing. Luka would give Piers everything. He would satisfy him in every walk of life. He'd give him that fuel that he needed to get better; give him a team. He wanted more than just that olive tanned body, pushing back against him and letting himself fall apart. He wanted him mentally, wanted to have every part of him. He knew this was not going to end of the war, because Christopher Redfield imagined his own accomplishments to be more than they were, he wouldn't let go easily. He was old news though. And youth and exotics had every place within Luka's fold within the Russian S.O.U. He would take him in every way humanly possible.

* * *

**This one is starting to come to a close. Anything anyone wants before these last few chapters?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Fluff for my friends before we move on to the end...**

* * *

"I don't want you to go..."

"Then come with me." Seemed like a sappy movie scenario, almost exactly down to the way Luka's arms were wrapped possessively about lither shoulders, pulling the man ever closer with each passing second. Taking in his scent, his narrow nose buried deep in tawny haired locks, whilst a palm squeezed firmly against well built muscles, watching as his observed beauty turned in the sheets, silky against his always, naturally tan hide. He was warm, Piers flesh always was, but it didn't stop him from constantly complaining of the cold. Perhaps it was just that Piers just enjoyed the manner of being held this way. Floors up in the sky, hidden from the world, in the sniper's own bed, onyx black sheets wrapped over lengthy limbs, standing out so starkly against his own pale limbs, while the T.V. hummed on mute with some movie playing that had been the only one his perfect tiger seemed to own. Of course, about some military movement. It had been on repeat all night long, neither of them truly watching the film. Rather, Luka was finally enjoying the comfort of holding Piers for the first time without fear of having him pull away. After the actions in the captain's office, the two of them getting out the frustration they both felt for their situation, it was about time. Piers was so out of tune with his own emotions, he could fly off the handle with nothing more of a push, and in the same breath he would lay here, like a tame cat, ask him not to leave. Not that Luka would have it any other way. The drill Sergent in the sniper wouldn't allow such intimacy or vulnerability. That didn't mean he didn't want to be, and that was proven, as long fingers drew on Luka's smooth pale chest, tips drawing concentric circles around the bud of harden flesh he found.

"I thought you Russians didn't get cold." Amused, those bow shaped lips found there way around the same bit of flesh he'd been teasing to pertness under his nimble fingers, giving a short flick of he tongue before pulling back; earning an enthused baritone chuckle from his victim."Some commie you are."

"I would not attribute such things with the sauna which you live, soldier." Piers had a tendency to run his heat, even in summer. Always chilly that one. Not to the point of discomfort, but Piers liked to be in a constant state where it felt as though he were lounging under the sun. Fitting, considering the fact that his flesh was such a warm tone. He'd come from some southern state, but it didn't account for the natural full body tan, Kentucky wasn't far enough south to justify the heat he enjoyed either. It was just who Piers was. He didn't need an explanation, and the Russian captain liked him just the way he was. He'd grow accustomed to the cold when he came back with him. And beside all that, it was not the cold that had goosebumps riddling his flesh. It was the insatiable manner that those hands kept finding themselves teasing every inch of his chest. Incredibly distracting, that perfect mouth. Just a short lived, lethargic manner of enjoying tasting Luka's pale smooth chest, but it seemed to please the intelligence officer enough just to watch him. "I will never know what is the plot of this movie if you continue to distract me, printsessa." Lips pulled away, leaving a deepening purple mark, Piers never looking up from it, as a finger swept through spit.

"Its about me if I was a bitter retired army sniper."

"The only movie you own, and it is about snipers? Do you ever tire of your job?" Chuckling, the man winced at the prick of well kept finger nails that pinched into his ribcage for teasing. "Do not blame me for your terrible taste in video recordings."

"Haha, its a DVD Luka. Why are you so old, huh?"

Such a tease, already back to skating his tongue along the smooth contours of pallid skin. "Do not get carried away, printsessa." Thin lips parted, tempered breathing at an attempt to ignored the pleased hums of the man pressing those petal soft lips to his skin for short lived kisses as he moved lower down, resting the side of smooth profile against the slim set abdominal. "My last mission with your alpha team has debriefing in an hour."

"An hour? I'll be done with you in ten minutes."

"Cocky little sniper."

* * *

Honestly if anyone was cocky, it was Chris for having though Piers would have left well enough alone when Luka came back for him. He didn't know what Chris had done, but he didn't need to. He could tell that there was a significant difference in his personality after that day, and Luka, though archaic, made much more sense than he thought. Piers could tell when something had changed, and he let it. Conflictual desires were not so easily dealt with. Watching Chris describe their enemy, hazel orbs followed him to the exact. His captain was that, and always would be his captain. There could be no replacement for how Piers felt for the man, no doubt why it was so hard to think of anything but him. But there was no lying on his part, the sniper was very self actualized when it came to the situation that they found themselves. Chris was lost. And it didn't matter how hard Piers fought to bring him back to his senses, he would stay that way so long as things maintained the same. Change the status quo. Luka was enamoring. He treated him in ways that made his body so warm. There was too much of a difference between them. Piers loved his captain, Luka loved Piers, but he could never replicate the feelings he had for Chris, and put them toward the communist soldier. It was a stand still. Yet, Luka had asked the sniper to come with him to the S.O.U. in the B.S.A.A.'s Russian branch. If there was anything Chris would notice, it would be his A.T.L. making a request to leave their team. If it could make a difference? If it could bring him out of his stupor of malcontent, wasn't that worth it? It was cruel though, in his own mind, using Luka to get to Chris. But if Chris didn't see his error, then it wasn't truly using his new captain. If Chris didn't see it, then what was stopping Piers from leaving? From letting the man take him back with him. Get a team, move on from all this, and becoming the soldier he was meant to be.

_**"MOVE OUT!"**_


End file.
